Leap of Faith
by Araeph
Summary: Thanks to Shan Yu's devastation, China is weak and prone to internal strife. Mulan has faced war before, but not so close to home. To triumph this time, she must rally the people who know her...but have never seen her succeed. Complete, with epilogue!
1. Awkward Understanding

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan_, nor any of the characters and plotlines therein.

* * *

Note: This story is completely separate from my earlier shorter ones, and is also separate from the sequel. (The less said about that, the better.) Although I have done some research, I have done what Disney did in making a sort of collage of Chinese history with several Western anachronisms thrown in for humor. No one is certain in which dynasty Mulan actually lived (if indeed she existed), and folk ballads are rarely picky about exact chronology, anyway—the characters exist in fantasy China, not historical China. That said, please feel free to inform me if I am completely wrong about something. I welcome constructive criticism.

* * *

Chapter One: Awkward Understanding

China's greatest warrior had faced daunting physical training, seen a village burned to embers and a battlefield littered with the dead. She had kept her wits in the face of an army's charge, an avalanche, and a huge Hun panting for her blood. She had ridden one step ahead of an exploding wagon, leaped out of the way of a firework blast, and gone over the edge of a cliff. At this moment, however, Fa Mulan realized that she had not known true terror until she had seen the beast head straight for the man she admired.

"Arf! Arf! Arf-arf-arf-arf—"

"I can't believe this," Mulan groaned as Little Brother scampered madly away with her contraption on his head. Her mother had ordered her to feed the chickens, probably in an effort to get Mulan out of the kitchen so that she wouldn't burn dinner for their new guest. It was bad enough when the dog went bone-chasing around the ancestral temple, but now Little Brother was ready to swing the other way and make straight for Li Shang. Sure enough, the flock of fat chickens hopped and fluttered after him, making Mulan wish, for once, that her ideas hadn't run away with her. What would Shang think?

"Little Brother! Stop!" Forgetting that she was once again in skirts, Mulan sprinted after her dog in a most unladylike way. Shang appeared to be talking quietly with her mother—what about, Mulan wasn't sure she wanted to know. Her father understood that she was proud of discovering her abilities as a warrior, but there was little recommendation that her mother could give her. Mulan knew she was not a great cook, nor particularly graceful, nor beautiful, and as for being humble and obedient—

"Arf!"

"Ai!" Mulan cried, exasperated. "Little Brother, come here!" _If I lunge for him just as he rounds the corner of the horse's stalls, I should be able to catch him. No, don't run the other way, not straight down the path, he'll definitely see—_

Too late. Mulan pounced on Little Brother and wrapped her arms around his middle, but both Shang and her mother had stopped talking at the animals' commotion. What was worse, the chickens weren't quite bright enough to stop at the same time as the dog, and bustled past her on either side before they realized that their meal-giver lay behind them.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Mulan said frantically as she handed the bone to Little Brother and tried to brush the chickens away from her. They weren't moving. Her mother was looking heavenward, as if willing the Ancestors to intervene, while Li Shang stood stock-still, a peculiar expression on his face.

"He got away from me...usually he stops once he goes around the hill..." She bent her head, hiding a blush as she tried to untie the bone's knot. Little Brother, thinking that her tugging was a sign of trying to take his bone away, wriggled out of her arms and ran over to sit at Shang's feet, gnawing on his prize furiously.

Shang bent down and examined the device. "What is this?" he asked. He didn't sound disapproving. Truth be told, he sounded almost...amused. But that couldn't be. Li Shang was not known for his sense of humor.

"Just something I made up," Mulan said falteringly. "I, uh, use it to distribute the meal to the chickens. Unfortunately, they'll follow him anywhere now, whether he's trailing the bag or not. If you'll help me hold him, I'll get the bone untied..." She was sure her face was scarlet.

"Are you finished, then?" This time, there was a definite note of laughter in his voice. Suddenly, Mulan felt defensive.

"I'll feed the rest in the ordinary way," she said stiffly. What had she been thinking?

"No, please don't think that..." The captain seemed to sense that he'd upset her. "I didn't mean to sound critical; I just wanted to ask how it worked. It does the job well, from what I can see."

She mustered her courage and looked up.

He was smiling at her now. "I see that you were good at strategy long before I trained you."

He took the stick in his hand after Mulan had relieved Little Brother of his burden. He hefted it, balancing it in one hand. She looked at him inquiringly. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "Your dog would make shorter trips if you tied the stick in the middle and attached a weight of some sort to it. That way, when the sack gets light enough, the stick in front will get lower, and he'll get the bone before he runs too far."

"You're right," said Mulan, relieved at how well he was taking this odd event. "Maybe a stone would do it."

He nodded. "Here, I'll help you hunt for one." Suddenly his eyes widened, as if recollecting something, and he turned to Fa Li. "If..."

"Yes, you may go with her," said Mulan's mother. "Just don't go out of sight of the house. I'll let her father know where she is."

Shang bowed his head slightly. "Madam." He came to stand by Mulan's side and they began their walk together.

From the doorway, there came Grandma's voice. "Put on your best dress before dinner! It brings out the color in your cheeks!"

"I'll race you to find the best stone," said Mulan quickly, taking him by the arm and leading him away from the house.

As soon as they touched, he stirred beneath her fingers. Mulan let go abruptly, backing away several paces. This was so difficult! She was used to their close contact as comrades in arms. When she had grasped his arm during the avalanche, she had thought nothing of its impropriety; there had been simply one soldier reaching out to another. Her family had subconsciously reminded her of the space that must remain between them as man and woman, but here, scouting the ground for rocks, it was easy to fall into their old camaraderie.

Mulan sighed in disappointment. The rapport that they'd had might never surface again. Her heart had leapt when Shang had first walked in, handing her the helmet; she still hoped there was a chance he would love her. But as much as she was attracted to him, she valued Shang's friendship highly also. They had come to respect and rely on one another; she would rather marry Chi Fu than see that destroyed because of a change in her appearance.

* * *

_She—she's gripping my arm. Oh, my. Her thumb is just over the veins in my wrist. How am I going to speak—hey! She let go. Why...why did she...was I wrong in coming here? Does she not..._

While Mulan, though embarrassed, at least retained the presence of mind to form complex sentences, Shang was not so lucky. Her taking his arm had felt much too nice, and he'd had to pull away to be able to think straight again.

The captain was suffering from internal conflict. On the one hand, Mulan had periodically risen in his esteem and affections since she had appeared from behind her father. This, unfortunately, was coupled with Shang's increasingly acute awareness of how inappropriate it would be to spout off gushy praise to this woman. He had been so unyielding in his judgment before; now, he feared she would see his change of heart as motivated by her newfound favor with the Emperor.

Of course, she was hard enough to approach on her own merit. She was inventive by nature, and her impulsive run had left him impressed by her sense of balance. The military training had left her with a kind of honest grace that was far more appealing than all of the court ladies mincing along on their bound feet. She was also generously affectionate; she did not yell at Little Brother for his antics, and neither did she look sourly at her grandmother, no matter how humiliating her grandmother's not-so-sly hints might be. Mulan was infinitely far above his attempts at conversation.

How was he to convey all that he thought in a way that pleased her? _"Mulan, you are extremely intelligent and your warrior's fierceness is wed to a compassionate heart." _Yeah, _that _would work. He could imagine what she would think: _Yes, I really needed _**you**, _the man who abandoned me in the mountains, to tell the person who destroyed Shan Yu and hugged the Emperor that she is smart and compassionate. _

Maybe a poet would have better luck. Shang, though he was intelligent, was used to expressing himself through body language, weaponry, and nearly-inscrutable facial expressions. He sighed inwardly. This was going to take time.

_At least talk to her, _he berated himself. _You've done enough damage to her confidence in you. Do not make this an awkward silence._

At last, he managed to speak. "What is this marvelous dress that your grandmother wants you to wear?"

"Oh." Mulan looked away from him. "I really shouldn't do as she asks; Mama will understand."

He raised an eyebrow. "I hope you don't think that your answer satisfied my curiosity, Fa Mulan."

"Well..."

"Oh, now you _have _to tell me," he teased.

She met his gaze squarely. "Fine. It's the dress I went to the Matchmaker's in."

Shang's jaw dropped.

"_What?_"

Mulan winced at his astonishment.

_Ouch, that was obvious, _Shang berated himself. _Now she _knows _I've come here to pursue her. And she doesn't look too happy about the idea. _Struggling to regain his composure, he said in a strained voice, "When was this?"

"Just before the news reached us of the Hun attack," Mulan responded quietly. She looked extremely uncomfortable.

"I see." Shang bit the inside of his cheek to keep from slamming a fist into the nearest tree. She had seen the Matchmaker already! He was too late; he had come here for nothing.

_No, not for nothing, _he amended, looking at Mulan. Even if they never saw each other again, he would be grateful for this small amount of time with her.

"I believe we'll find more stones by the pond," Mulan offered, peering at him closely. Try as he might, he couldn't keep the gloomy expression from his face.

They spent the next few minutes searching for stones without speaking. It had been like this often when she had been on watch with him, or when they put away the equipment after sparring together. He had never considered it fully before. It felt inexplicably right to be in her company, even though now the customs of proper behavior came between them now like a section of the Great Wall.

Ploosh!

Shang was jarred from his reverie. Mulan had skipped a stone across the pond. She let another one travel; it skimmed the water's surface three times before sinking. He supposed Yao, Ling, or Chien Po had taught her how to do that.

Mulan got ready to skip yet another, when all of a sudden she threw it to the ground in frustration. "You're still wondering about what I said."

Carefully, Shang stated, "I understand that the affair is none of my business. I only hope that he brings you happiness."

Mulan's reaction was definitely not what he had anticipated.

"Huh?"

She turned towards him, wearing a bewildered expression.

Even more carefully, fearing his voice would betray him, Shang stated, "Your fiancé. I hope you are happy with him. Forgive me for not realizing that you are betrothed."

Her lips formed a silent, _Oh!_

She looked mortified. "Um, Shang, I—Captain Li, sorry, I—I am not." She took a deep breath. "I am not betrothed. I thought you knew that. My grandmother's remarks..." She blushed.

Shang had yet to decide what was harder: repressing his previous disappointment, or controlling the uncharacteristic giddiness that he now felt.

"I did assume that you were unattached, at first, but I fail to see how you could visit the Matchmaker and not come away with a husband. Unless..." He tried too hard not to hope. "Unless he did not meet your standards, and your father declined the offer."

She gave an incredulous laugh. "_That's _what you think? Not all girls meet with approval from the Matchmaker, Li Shang."

"Well, not all, but of course you would. You would be an enviable wife." He frowned, trying to understand what Mulan was hinting at. It was inconceivable that a man from a village like this would turn down a woman like Mulan, or that a matchmaker would not notice her great beauty, modesty, and poise. Had her father refused an offer of marriage that she was in favor of?

At the moment, she was looking more astonished with every word he was saying. This couldn't be a good sign. She seemed to be searching for some way to make him understand.

At last, she spoke. "Do you remember the first day we met?"

"It was unforgettable." He fondly recalled the bumbling young soldier deciding to pick a fight with the entire camp.

"That's a nice way to put it—it was a disaster! You're smiling now, because I've proven myself to you. But if I remember correctly the moment when I first saw you, looking down at me like I wasn't much, I'd wager that you wouldn't have picked me to be the first to get that arrow from the pole."

He looked at her warmly. "You are always surprising, Fa Mulan. I have forgotten very little about that day."

She was rueful. "Then it should be easy for you to picture that kind of chaos at the Matchmaker's during my examination."

Shang's eyes widened. Now that she put it that way...he had been used to imagining Mulan, or at least Ping, as quick and agile, not dwelling on the many missteps Ping had made before finding "his" stride and making amends with the camp. He had since assumed that Ping's initial awkwardness was only because Ping was a woman trying unsuccessfully to fit in with the guys. But if this clumsiness had been a trait of Mulan's as well...he winced. "Was the Matchmaker all right?"

"Now he understands!" Mulan laughed, and an odd heat flared in Shang's chest at the sound. With a mixture of pain, amusement and resignation, she told the captain of the events that had transpired on that fateful day. When she finished, she was sitting on the railing of the moon bridge, hands folded and looking very small. "Her exact last words were, 'You may look like a bride, but you will never bring your family honor!'"

"Obviously, her judgment is infallible," Shang said sarcastically. "Never bring your family honor, huh? You should treat the rest of her insults with all the consideration that her last one merits."

"I am lucky that I have brought enough honor to my family that I will not be shunned in the village," Mulan admitted. Firmly, she added, "I am not sorry that I did not marry at that time, even if it means that I never will. I am female; I was never going to continue my family line. The most I can do is keep the incense lit at the temple while I live. But," she sighed, "I do wish that the option of marriage hadn't closed so...abruptly."

Shang blinked. She really had no idea. She had won a sword, and a medal, and the Emperor himself had bowed before her...and she was _still_ judging her actions by the standards of her childhood town.

"Mulan," he said gently, "Do you think that none of the soldiers you went to war with would have you, if they thought they could deserve you? Even a marriage born only of friendship would be a delight with a true companion like you. That's nothing, though—once your deeds reach the ears of the rest of China, you will have princes vying for you. I guarantee it." If he were another man, he might have let her remain ignorant of her situation, the better to increase his own chances of winning her. But Shang thought too highly of Mulan, and of his own honor, to leave her with a skewed picture of the future she faced.

"What? Are you..." she hesitated. It wasn't easy to accuse one's commanding officer of being facetious.

"I assure you, I am serious. Nor does my...my loyalty to you cloud my judgment. I have been near the court with my father and seen enough marriages among my peers to know what is valuable and what is not."

"I've forgotten how little I know of these things. You've made me feel like a new recruit all over again." She chuckled. "It's probably a good thing that I refused Chi Fu's position!"

"Indeed. Then I would have had to beg on hands and knees to have you continue your weapons training." He looked at her. "Now, at least, I can remain standing."

She inhaled sharply. "You—you want me back?"

"The Emperor requested that I ask you if you are willing to rejoin the army, should any new problems arise. Make no mistake; I would have asked you myself, had he not sent me. The Huns have not all vanished, Mulan, and there are other border troops always stirring up trouble. It is the price we pay for our civilization. China would welcome skills such as yours." He grinned. "Besides, someone has to help me fend off that official."

"I'll hold him, and you punch?" Mulan offered. "Better yet, I'll light a rocket, and you catch him when he tries to hide under a rock!"

They both laughed.

Shang vaulted easily over the bridge and bent down to pick up a stone. "Here you go. This one should do."

In response, Mulan drew out her own rock from her sash. "I beg to differ, Captain." Her eyes twinkled. "But I suppose yours can be the replacement, if mine falls off accidentally."

Forgetting custom again, he seated himself on the railing and gave her a good-natured shove. Mulan, who didn't have a firm grip, was unseated. Fortunately, her swift reflexes allowed her to catch hold of the bridge before she fell into the pond. She hefted herself up onto the railing with little trouble. Shang was impressed; she hadn't even gotten her feet wet.

His admiration changed to delight when she swung a foot across, connecting with his waist and launching him onto the white stone bridge. She spun around, alighting from her perch as Shang regained his footing. He lunged for her and she leapt up onto a white post, kicking his arm away. A moment later, he leapt atop the railing himself.

This was a trick she had learned in the last days of training. Once the gang had mastered leaping across posts, Shang had taught them how to fight on walltops and move along narrow surfaces. He had prepared her well: without his instruction, she would never have been able to hold her balance at that pivotal moment on the roof of the Imperial Palace.

They blocked and threw one punch after another, relying on their legs more for balance than for fighting. Shang had had much more experience at this sort of sparring, but Mulan had tiptoed across this particular bridge more times than she could count. She bet her footing was more solid than Shang realized.

Mulan made a show of retreating, jumping back until she stood astride one of the railing's posts. Shang began to increase the speed of his strikes, thinking that he had her. After a few seconds, Mulan pretended to lose her footing, her legs flying out from under her on either side. Shang bent forward to complete the attack, but Mulan wasn't finished. As her legs went out to the sides, her right hand slammed down and gripped the post, supporting her weight for the split second she needed to land a hit with her other hand.

Unprepared, Shang reeled backwards, but not before he had sent a good kick in Mulan's direction. The momentum made both of them lose their balance: Mulan landed on the bridge, while Shang fell into the water. Unbelievably, he landed on his feet and brushed himself off unconcernedly. His pants were already rolled up to the calf, as he had been searching the pool for rocks earlier. As Mulan got to her feet, she found herself thinking of—

"Aiii!"

He had splashed the hem of her dress.

"You fiend!" She pretended to be indignant.

"There," he said, satisfied. "It won't dry in time for dinner. Now I _must_ see the Matchmaker gown."

Mulan had never seen this side of Shang before. He was kind, he was fun, and...playful! She would never have expected that of him.

"I was sweaty, anyway," she said primly.

"Sweaty? You don't sweat. I've sparred with you before, and while the likes of Yao would stink up the Imperial City after a few moves, you could probably fight all day and still smell like fresh blossoms."

"Trust me," said Mulan, her cheeks turning pink. "My mother will have a fit. I'm sure you realize that after talking to her earlier...she still wishes I were a lady."

"That's not such a bad thing." He winked. "She skipped over your cooking and sewing skills, which frankly couldn't interest me less, and told me about how sweet a girl you were."

"At this rate, I won't need that dress at all to bring out the color in my face," Mulan mumbled.

He laughed. "Wear your military outfit, then. Your mother will be thrilled."

Mulan rolled her eyes. "Maybe if I can sneak back inside without her seeing me..."

* * *

"Have you lost your head? We have been in the kitchen for hours, trying to make a good impression, and you dirty your dress while trying to fix that absurd stick-thing you've made the dog wear? Change at once! Go go go!"

"Yes, Mama." Mulan fled into her room. She found the dress easily; it had been cleaned and put away. Getting into the dress on her own was an adventure all by itself; Mulan had never gotten the hang of wearing very fancy clothes. She took comfort in the fact that her room looked and felt the same. She had heard stories of veterans coming home from war and feeling like strangers in their own homes. Not here, though. As she tied her sash, her eyes turned to the inkwell and ink stick, remembering when she had last used them.

_Fulfill your duties calmly and respectfully. Reflect before you act. This shall bring you honor and glory._

Oh, dear. Mulan was quite confident that she had shattered the Final Admonition, both in her old life and as a soldier. Mulan rarely feigned self-assurance when she felt insecure, and when she did, she was never convincing. But once Mulan knew what she wanted, what _should _be done, she acted with an alacrity and steely temper that surprised most people she met. Until she had run away, this part of her personality had met with nothing but disapproval, with the exceptions of her grandmother and occasionally her father. As irritating as it was, though, Mulan knew that she could not get rid of it, and she was quite sure now that she didn't want to.

This idea might have pained her more if Mulan didn't have the sneaking suspicion that Shang preferred her true personality to the one she was supposed to project. If the Matchmaker could see her, skipping stones and prancing on top of the moon bridge, the Matchmaker would probably explode out of fury. Yet Shang, while he had been uncomfortable when she was apologizing for her mishaps, had regained his speech and even complimented her once she had become bolder.

She finished struggling into her dress and began fiddling with her hair. She couldn't fix it the same way she was used to at home, since her hair was so much shorter, but she didn't think her parents would welcome a soldier's topknot.

"Is the sweet girl who smells of fresh blossoms ready?" said a mischievous voice.

Mulan whirled around. "Grandma!" She did her best to control her expression.

Her grandmother stepped towards her and motioned for Mulan to surrender the comb. "Here, let me do it. You just worry about pinching your cheeks and not tripping over your own feet." She winked at a small dot on the windowsill. "The lucky cricket is quite the informant."

Mulan jolted. "Cri-Kee told you what happened? But...he's a bug."

"And I'm a wise old woman. Didn't know I could speak more than one language, did you?" Grandma cackled. "You know, when I was your age I'd flutter my eyelashes to distraction to get your grandfather to notice me. You do everything you can to be quiet and modest and he _still _flirts with you."

"Flirts? He repeated my mother's words to me, and then he said I smell sweet in comparison to the rest of the soldiers in the army!" said Mulan tartly. "If you'd had them as sparring partners, you'd know that's not exactly a compliment." She changed her tone abruptly. "Please, Grandma, don't say anything to him. I don't want to scare him off."

"He scares easily?"

"No, he's one of the bravest men I know, but—"

"Then he rode all this way because he didn't want to see you?"

"I _did _lose my helmet."

"You've left your brains in that helmet if you think he's indifferent to you."

"I know he's not indifferent," said Mulan defiantly. "We've been through a lot together. We've saved each other's lives; we care about each other. I just don't think that I'm a very good prospective wife."

"Ah, young love," sighed Grandma as she finished sweeping Mulan's hair up to one side. "So fierce, and yet so blind."

Mulan put on her shoes and hurried out of the room.

"Ask him if he wants to stay the night!" her grandmother called after her.

* * *

"Honorable Fa Zhou," said Shang after a long pause at dinner, "I have both a confession and a request to make."

Mulan's mother made a small gasp. Grandma dropped her chopsticks onto her plate. Fa Zhou narrowed his eyes and regarded the young captain with a serious expression.

_Could it be?_

Shang gulped. "I...this afternoon, when we were alone by the pond, I was a bit..er, forward...and engaged Mulan in a sparring match. I wanted to measure her progress since the final days of training. She is a brilliant tactician, as I'm sure you know, but her martial skills also show promise." He took a deep breath. "I know that you need her here at home, and that you might not wish to send her to the Academy, especially as she has just returned to you. I was wondering if you would approve of her training with me at my estate...chaperoned, of course," he added hastily. "And only if she wishes."

So it wasn't a marriage proposal.

Fa Li released a breath that she must have been holding for the entirety of the captain's speech.

There was an audible, "Oh, drat!" from Grandma.

Fa Zhou inclined his head. "I thank you for your offer, Captain Li," he replied. "A chance to train under one of China's finest officers is an opportunity indeed. What payment would you require for your services, should she consent?"

"Oh." The captain looked visibly startled. "I—I hadn't thought...Sir, I will not expect payment for this. I have more than enough money for myself, and it would be a pleasure to teach so promising a student. Besides, I owe Mulan more than I can ever repay."

"I am afraid, Captain Li, that that would be inadvisable. If the neighbors inquire, and I tell them that you are tutoring her for free, they will think that you are simply offering this to be close to her, and will believe ill things about Mulan."

The captain scowled. "Then you should tell them that the price for my services is high, and that you are not at liberty to reveal it."

Fa Zhou's eyebrows rose. "You want me to lie to them?"

"No. Your daughter being away from home once a week will be a very heavy price, I think."

Fa Zhou suppressed a smile. "I see. Very well, then. Mulan?"

"Yes!" said Mulan without hesitating. Immediately, she bit her lip. "Uh, I mean, I would be very grateful for the extra training."

Shang's eyes had lit up at the sound of her answer. "I will make arrangements immediately. When can you come?"

Mulan looked at her father. "Two weeks, do you think?"

He considered. "That should give you enough time to adjust. Also..." he smiled wistfully. "I believe my time for wearing that armor has passed. Two weeks will be enough for my wife and mother to make the necessary adjustments."

"Yes, husband...Mulan _is_ capable of sewing, though!" Fa Li added, a bit nervously, to Captain Li. "Not as well as other girls you've seen, perhaps, but she is quite able, when she puts her mind to it."

Shang nodded politely.

"And just because we cooked today doesn't mean that Mulan can't cook, either," Grandma added helpfully. "Why, even the time she flipped the bowl of beans upside down, she made them land in the skillet!"

"Impressive," said Shang solemnly.

Mulan looked miserable.

"I wonder, though..." Shang glanced sideways at Mulan "...what you actually _like _to do?"

"Oh, Mulan enjoys working as part of the household very much!" said Fa Li. "She is always so helpful..."

Fa Zhou cleared his throat and looked pointedly at his wife, who quieted down.

"I like..." Mulan began. "Well, lots of things interest me, though not all things I _should _be interested in."

"Mulan!" exclaimed her mother.

"Such as?" The captain looked like he was enjoying himself.

"I like to read," Mulan responded, "although there is little chance here for any amount of studying. I enjoy riding tremendously. I also..." she lowered her voice self-consciously. "I like to play xiangqi."

Her mother looked horrified.

"Do you?" Shang's was equally surprised, but in contrast to her mother, he looked approving.

"You should have seen her on Matchmaking Day!" Grandma chimed in. "Her mother was dragging her along because she was going to be late, and Mulan happened to look over at one of the boards, where one man was losing badly. She made a single move, and it must have helped him, because his opponent made a face that would curdle milk!"

Mulan's mother looked ready to faint.

"Wonderful," Shang breathed. "You and I must have a match sometime."

Mulan gave him a challenging look. "I would beat you."

"I have no doubt of that, Fa Mulan."

* * *

"How could you behave like that at dinner?" Mulan's mother looked anxious as she took her daughter aside for a scolding. "My child, if you carry on like this, he might not want to marry you. He might have asked for your hand tonight if you had been more ladylike; instead, he's taking you to military training."

"I would welcome the training more than a proposal, Mama," said Mulan. She was through with being forced to hide her opinions. Her father was giving her more freedom; in fact, he was treating her as he would treat a son. Why couldn't her mother understand that things had changed?

Her mother looked at her in confusion. "How could you say such a thing? Don't you know that he is a good man and will provide for you comfortably?"

"I can provide for myself!" Mulan insisted. "The Emperor gave me a pension, and should I ever resume military service, which seems quite likely, I will receive a regular salary." She hesitated. "He is a good man, and he is very dear to me. But if he made me an offer of marriage now, right now, I think I would ask him to wait. I'm not ready, and he's barely known me as Mulan."

"You're sixteen! Most girls your age are already mothers! If he will not have you, then who will?"

"If _no one_ has me, I can still be happy!" said Mulan. "I'm willing to risk that in exchange for time to adjust to my new life." She closed her eyes. "Please understand this, Mama. I love you. I love Baba. I fought Shan Yu so that our family would be together. Shang is a good friend, and I trust him with my life, but I did not go to war for him. When I was only a burden to you, it might have been best to see me married off. But now, I can take care of everyone! I can _hire _a servant to do chores, should I wish it. I can provide for you better here than in the north, where Shang lives."

"And give us no children?" demanded her mother. "Is that a fulfillment of filial duty?"

"My children will not bear the family name, no matter whom I marry," Mulan reminded her. "They will belong to my husband's line. _I _will belong to my husband's line." She stood still, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "How can I _stop _being a Fa? It's who I've always been."

There was a pause.

"Mama," said Mulan, as gently as she could, "I am not trying to be difficult. But if I married Shang now, I think that I would make him very unhappy. I cannot be the kind of wife that he, as an important man, would require. I can't change for him. I have gone away, and in doing so I have discovered who Fa Mulan really is. She is not perfect, but she _is _someone worthwhile." Her voice grew firm. "I will not give her up, not even to Shang, just as I've gotten to know her."

* * *

—_Girls your age are already mothers! If he will not have you, then who will?_

Shang hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Mulan. All right, so he _had _been looking for her ever since dinner. Fa Zhou had consented to them touring the temple before the sun went down, and Shang didn't want to miss an instant of time with Mulan.

He had heard her voice, and rushed to meet her, but slowed as he heard a second voice, that of her mother. He listened intently, creeping ever so softly nearer to the entrance of Mulan's room. Shang was expertly trained; he could be very stealthy, despite his large size. He kept his ears open for some break in the conversation. When there was a pause, however, he found that he couldn't bear to step in. She might grow quiet again, and hearing Mulan speak so frankly and openly brought him more joy than he cared to admit.

At last, he compelled himself to take a few steps backward, then walk forward again with loud and obvious footsteps. Sure enough, as he neared the entrance to her chamber, Mulan fell silent. She _did _greet him with a smile, though, which widened as he suggested the walk towards the temple.

They both breathed easier once they were outside. Shang was still engrossed in his thoughts about the conversation he'd overheard. Up until now, Shang had thought that any objections to their match would come from Mulan not feeling anything for him, or from his unworthiness as a suitor. Now, it was obvious that the life he thought of them having together wasn't anything like what Mulan had pictured. He had thought of Mulan solely as a partner, and because all of China now revered her, he hadn't imagined her as anything else but an equal in such a relationship. Now, he was forced to consider what would happen to Mulan if she were treated like any ordinary woman. It wasn't pretty. He couldn't imagine such a woman bowing to him, serving him, existing to bear him children. It was unthinkable. He shuddered.

"Are you chilly, Captain?" Mulan asked him. "It can be cold here, even in the autumn."

"I'm not," Shang answered. "It's just—" he broke off and stared at her. Mulan's large eyes were looking up at him. It was a friendly gaze, but not a bashful one. She did not blush and look away under his stare; she stood up to him.

He decided then and there that he would be open with her.

"I did overhear part of your conversation with your mother," he ventured.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Mulan, and made him tell her at what point he had listened in. When he finished, she put a hand to her forehead.

Shang looked at her. "What? Nothing that you said could reflect badly on you. You were honest without being harsh. And you are right." He sighed. "You deserve to be independent."

He looked at her more closely.

"Although...I am more than a little curious what you think I would expect from a wife."

Mulan looked highly uncomfortable. She found refuge in listing all of the accomplishments that would be expected of a woman of her station, as well as the unquestioning obedience required of any wife. "Added to this," she said, "is the expectation that she would bear many children." She sighed.

Shang raised an eyebrow. "Is that...bad?"

"Not if you're fertile," Mulan retorted. "If you're not...if you're too ill, or too skinny, or...well, you know that my mother only had me. It was very hard for her. My mother was lucky that my father didn't take a second wife, or at least a mistress. A wife of one of the Li family would have to produce an heir, or be cast aside for another woman."

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. "You think that I would abandon my wife if she couldn't bear children? That I would be _unfaithful?_" His voice shook.

Mulan broke away from his grip and folded her arms over her chest. "You have family expectations to maintain."

"I would adopt a son before I dishonored my wife." He rubbed his temples. "As for the other duties you mentioned...let me be blunt." He looked intently at her. "You listed various skills—needlework, cleaning, cooking—that would serve a woman well, were she to marry a man from your village. However. A man of means, such as you may now marry, will have no need of such things. Those tasks belong to servants. Your husband will not need a servant." The temple was in sight, and Shang and Mulan began their ascent. "What else? Ah, fertility and unconditional obedience. A husband may put such a wife on display and say, 'See what a wife I have managed to gain.' Such a husband is not displaying a wife, however, but rather a trophy." He smiled at her. "If you really want to be seen as a prize...I think that your being the savior of China might tip the scales in your favor without those other qualities."

She looked embarrassed. "I suppose so."

"Is there anything I'm forgetting?" asked Shang.

"Physical appearance?" Mulan suggested. "The woman who is supposed to be the perfect flower..." She smirked. "What category would that fall into?"

He replied unwaveringly. "Courtesan."

He watched as Mulan blinked a few times and then nodded. If he had mentioned that word to another lady, he could envision only too well what would have happened. She would have screamed, or burst into tears, or perhaps fainted. Mulan didn't even flinch. It had been her idea to dress Imperial soldiers up as concubines. He sighed contentedly. He could _talk _to this woman, really talk with her, not just tiptoe around her sensibilities. He suspected he could swear in front of her and she would just laugh.

"Well." Mulan's mouth curved into a smile. "And since I am not a courtesan, I am now not certain at all of what I would do with such a husband and infinite time on my hands."

A very indecorous answer arose in Shang's mind, but he resisted the temptation to say it. "That," he said, "will be for the two of you to decide."

"Hmm." She tapped her finger against her chin. "Please tell me if I'm being too intrusive, but what did your father decide when he married?"

"Ah." They had ascended the temple steps and were gazing at the tombstones. "My mother, fortunately, was an excellent bearer of sons, although her first one died when only a few months old."

Mulan looked interested. "How many siblings do you have?"

"I have two brothers living." He bent down to read the words etched on the black stone. "As I was saying, my mother was my father's only wife. Their marriage was arranged by the Matchmaker, but I believe there was some affection there, as well. In any case, while I'm not sure my parents were actually in love, they did have a long-lasting regard for each other. My mother was perfectly content to obey my father, for he was seldom home, and when he was away, my mother would rule our household." He grimaced. "She could be strict sometimes."

"It runs in the family, then," teased Mulan.

"Hey!" said Shang, pretending to be miffed. "I was preparing you for battle. That's different. A little matter of life and death, in case you hadn't noticed."

Mulan merely smiled. "No, I hadn't." Her grin vanished suddenly. "Have you been to your lands yet?" she asked. "Does your mother know...about...?"

Shang closed his eyes in pain. "She does not know that my father has died. I will tell her myself. It should come from me. Though I wish I could delay for a while here." He ran his fingers along the black stone, admiring the way the polished surface reflected the setting sun. "Your family is so lively. Mine is stiff, especially with my youngest brother at school. It's hard to believe that grief could ever come here." He heaved a ragged sigh and suddenly said bitterly, "I wish I did not have to leave here! I do not want to return home—I do not know if I have the strength to return, not yet. He should be...he would be by my side and we—"

Here, in the place where Mulan's ancestors lay sleeping, the loss of his own father suddenly overwhelmed Shang. Although the sorrow had struck him when Chien-Po had carried his father's helmet, Shang had steeled himself against the hard grief that had threatened to shake him. His men needed him. That had not been the right time for mourning.

_Neither is this! _Shang tried to tell himself. He tried to speak again, but his words came out strangled. Curse it. He was losing control. Piled on top of his grief, he was feeling the backlash of the hate and horror he had experienced during his first campaign. His facade might have held if Mulan had not been standing beside him. He remembered how she had tried to reach out to him in his grief before, how Ping had spoken only two words, but those laden with quiet sympathy.

Now, it was she who touched his shoulder. The familiarity of the contact did him in, and Shang found himself gripping Mulan's arms tightly, head bent down in sorrow.

_No! No, don't break now!_ He couldn't allow his loss to taint this time with her. Besides, his arms were dangerously close to encircling her. "I can't..." he turned away. "I mean, it's not...right..."

"Hey." Mulan placed a hand on his other shoulder. "You owe me a hug, for the Imperial City. Remember? It's perfectly all right," she said in a softer voice.

* * *

Mulan had not forgotten that Shang had not embraced her after their final victory. Even the Emperor had hugged her, but Shang had been too distant. Knowing Shang better as she now did, she had no doubt that he would apologize for his cool farewell and oblige her at the moment that she chose, out of gratitude if nothing else.

There was no denying that Mulan had a deep attraction to Shang. She wanted to touch him. The embrace could have given her that. If Mulan had been another sort of woman, she would have saved this request for a time when he would pay attention only to her, instead of her giving him comfort when he was least able to repay it. But she thought too highly of him, and of their unspoken bond of friendship, to deny or even begrudge him this gesture while he was in pain.

* * *

The sun flared briefly behind the dark violet clouds, turning the whole temple bright, but neither Shang nor Mulan saw it. Mulan had her arms around Shang and had pulled him closely to her, and Shang was resting his head in the curve of Mulan's neck, his face buried in her hair. Hot tears were spilling from his eyes, despite all he could do to prevent them. He did not sob, nor make any sound. He stood almost perfectly still, a statue of fixed sorrow.

At last, Shang's shoulders shook slightly, and that jerked him back to reality. He couldn't maintain this proximity to Mulan for very long, or he would do something awful like press himself against her and kiss her from the nape of her neck to her forehead.

There was a strange sort of hiss, and what sounded like a small voice whispered, "An' just what do you think you're doin' with Mulan? If you pucker up even once, Pretty Boy, I'll..."

Shang was sure his ears were deceiving him. Then he remembered where he was. Uneasily, he glanced at the stones of the dormant ancestors, feeling like he was being watched.

There was nothing else for it. He would have to pull away soon, and then she'd see his tears. He couldn't bear it. He was furious with himself. Why did he have to collapse _now, _just when things had been going so well between them? Why couldn't he be stronger?

He felt her begin to let him go, and he reluctantly released her from his grasp. He closed his eyes, cheeks burning as he stepped back.

There was the sound of Mulan taking two steps, and then nothing.

Shang's eyes opened in surprise. He had expected Mulan to be staring at him, wearing an expression of...what? Astonishment? Pity?...but she wasn't looking at him at all. She had turned around completely and was looking at the sunset. And she wasn't two steps away...only one.

Abruptly, he understood. She hadn't seen his face at all. She had turned away before she could look at him.

After a moment, she said, "When I found out that Baba was going to war, I followed him to where he was practicing his old moves. I saw him gasp in pain at a maneuver and drop his sword, and I knew then that he would die if he went to war. It was as if all my blood were draining out of me. I ran outside and cried for hours." She felt for his shoulder and patted it awkwardly. "I made my decision to go to war that night. At any rate, I'm only speaking from my own experience. Everyone grieves differently." She paused again, still not looking. "If you are ready to go back inside, please step beside me. If you would like more time alone with your thoughts, stay there for now."

Shang understood her perfectly. _You are probably looking a bit disheveled right now, and I know that to see it would embarrass us both. I don't want you to feel awkward, and it's nothing to be ashamed of, because I've been through what you're feeling now. If you need to compose yourself, I will give you more time._

Shang stepped beside her. He took her hand in his.

"It is time that we be getting back. You will come soon, for the lessons, I hope?"

Mulan smiled. "Barring a complete catastrophe, I'll come in two weeks, as promised."

"Very good, then." Shang winced as he spoke the words his father would have spoken. But his grief was not as strong as before. "I would stay the night, but my family really does need to hear the news."

"Grandma will be most disappointed."

_Will you be? _he wanted to ask.

"Thank you, Mulan," he said as she led him toward the stable.

She saluted.

It helped immensely that he knew she was waving at him as he sped off into the night.

* * *

So...at long last, I am attempting a full-length fanfic. It should be an interesting ride, and any help would be greatly appreciated.


	2. A Complete Catastrophe

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan_, nor any of the characters and plotlines therein.

* * *

Note: A lot of fanfic assumes that Mulan and the troops fought straight through winter and that she arrived home the following spring (with winter being their campaign at the Pass). First of all, it would be very stupid for the Huns to wage a war that would carry over into winter, since they are horsemen and horses need a reliable supply of fresh fodder during long marches. Second, it is quite possible that the area near the Tung Shao pass is covered in snow year-round due to its high altitude. Third, the time span isn't that long—it only takes three weeks for Shang's regiment to start its march to battle. Factoring in a few more weeks for the soldiers to reach the Pass on foot, a few days for the climactic battles, plus the time it takes Mulan to return (on horseback) from the Imperial City to her home, Mulan's adventure from beginning to end lasted less than a season.

* * *

Chapter Two: A Complete Catastrophe

"Rain _again_?"

Fa Zhou nodded unhappily. "It has come too early to be of help to the harvest, and it's too warm for snow. Hopefully, the skies will clear soon. You'd better not try the roads for a few days yet. Khan will be over his fetlocks in mud."

Mulan blew a wisp of hair out of her face impatiently. "I'll wait two days. After that, I'm riding out to see him. I won't get lost," she said defensively, as she watched her father frown at her. "The Li estate wouldn't be exactly hard to miss, would it? And I'll have Grandma with me."

"Exactly. Mulan, you may be young and fit, but your grandmother should not be riding out in such weather."

Mulan's brow crinkled worriedly. "Do you really think that it would affect her health?"

"She seems spry enough, but I don't think we should chance it."

"I'll be fine, Zhou!" Mulan's grandmother called from the other room. "We can't let Mulan miss an opportunity like this because of some rain."

"I've studied the land and the weather for many seasons now," Fa Zhou replied. "This is no mere thunderstorm. We'll be lucky indeed if it lets up before two days."

"Lucky, humph!" said Grandma. "Where's that cricket when you need him?"

* * *

_Dong! Dong! Dong!_

Cri-Kee, promoted to Official Gong Ringer for the Fa ancestral temple, was preoccupied with summoning the ancestors. The Great Ancestor, not wanting to waste time, awakened Mushu from his pedestal without delay.

Barely had he flicked his fingers when the tiny dragon came alive with his traditional line. "I liiiii—aah!"

Well, with part of his traditional line. It turns out that throwing oneself forwards with one's arms out straight works a lot better from the floor than from a high pedestal.

Thud!

"Ow!"

"There's no time for your antics," the Great Ancestor bellowed. "Get back on your feet!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Mushu muttered. "I've been asleep for what, a week?"

"Two and a half."

"You can't tell me that Mulan's gotten herself into trouble that fast! Unless..." He narrowed his eyes. "I knew that Shang was up to no good! Looking for comfort, yeah right, and I'm a pink canary..."

"If your _quite finished _with listening to yourself talk," the Great Ancestor interrupted. "It has been days, and the rains have not abated. Mulan will not be able to journey to Li Shang's house."

"She'll break her word to him!" cried the Abacus Ancestor. "He'll lose all respect for her! He won't offer her marriage, and she'll die in disgra—"

"_That_ is not the problem!" The Great Ancestor interjected. He sighed. "There is something else that this weather is telling us. Can't you feel the way the air has changed?"

All of a sudden, the ancestors went quiet.

As they listened, they were aware of a faint, otherworldly rumbling.

"Uh-oh," said Fa Dang. "I may have lost my head, but I can tell when someone's ticked off the Thunder God."

"You can't tell me that Mulan ticked off the Thunder God!" Mushu smiled smugly. "He'd probably want to meet her just to get her autograph. She's so famous, spirits from all over would jump at the chance to see her! Hey, he wants to pop in, say hi, just let him know who helped her become the hero of China!" He pointed a claw at himself proudly.

"Will you shut up about your charge for the tiniest of seconds?" The Great Ancestor raised himself up to his greatest height. It was quite easy to tower over someone when he was disembodied to begin with. "This IS NOT about her. And if you don't want it to _become_ about her, you will listen carefully."

That silenced Mushu...well, as nearly as he could be silenced, anyway. He muttered under his breath while the Great Ancestor continued. "The Thunder God does not get angry over trifles when it comes to mortals. There is a criminal near this region, and he has gone unpunished. Who knows why...that's not our affair. However, to have incurred the wrath of such a powerful being, this person must have done something extremely bad. Therefore, it is extremely dangerous for the town, and everyone in it, to have him around." He took a deep breath. "As we know, Mulan has a knack for getting into trouble, especially now that she has all of this attention directed at her. We must all be alert and watch out for the family.

"As for you, Mushu..." the Great Ancestor pointed a stubby finger at him. "You will make sure that Mulan doesn't get into any trouble of any kind whatsoever. She may be able to fight physical battles, but matters of the spirit are entirely different. If I find that she has been gallivanting off and trying to confront this character, I'll put you back to sleep and awaken one of the other guardians."

"Uh, okay. And this is the part where you all start laughing together. Right?" Mushu looked from one ancestor to another. "Keeping Mulan away from trouble is like keeping Fa Doh away from gambling!"

"Hey!" said an irritated ancestor, holding a chart behind his back. "I almost got a fortune on that last turn!"

"Which is why we'll need our best guardian on the job." The Great Ancestor grinned unpleasantly. "That's you. For the time being."

Mushu, not for the first time, wondered if fire could have any effect on an insubstantial man. Deciding against it, he motioned to Cri-Kee and they set off to tail Mulan.

* * *

"I'm just going to the market, Mushu," said Mulan, as she finished brushing her hair. "What's the matter?"

"The market? Are you foolin' me, girl? Don't you know how dangerous a place that is? Lots of people to run into, make angry, you know...carts rushin' by and horses runnin' all over the place; it's a regular death trap."

"There won't be many carts today," said Mulan. She peered outside for the twelfth time that morning. "The roads are almost impassable. Why are you so worried, anyway?"

"N-no reason." Mushu displayed his pointy white teeth in a sheepish grin. "Just don't want anything happenin' to the savior of China, that's all."

"I've been through battles, Mushu. I think I can handle a trip outside. Besides, Mama is coming, too. She'll at least keep me from doing anything unladylike." Mulan's brow creased at that last statement. "Now, what's all this about?"

"Eh...just don't go down any dark alleys, is all. Most of them are really smelly, don't want to know what goes on there sometimes—"

"Mulan?"

"Coming, Mama!" Mulan called from the doorway of her room. Gazing one last time at the downpour outside of her window, Mulan lifted up a basket and prepared to meet the elements.

* * *

Crash!

Mulan saw her mother glance uneasily at the sky as they went out to get a side of pork, some rice, and a few skeins of thread. The cloth covering of the vendors' stands did little to halt the rain, which was still coming down in torrents. Mulan was wearing an extra cloak, but she was soaked through after fewer than five minutes outside. She wished herself in her army uniform; the leather and sturdy cloth was much better at holding out against harsh weather.

"Mulan, hurry! Stop daydreaming and keep up! We have a schedule to keep, and I don't want to be out in this mess for any longer than I have to!"

Mulan nodded absentmindedly, then almost ran into a brightly-colored figure.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't notice that—" the person began. Mulan could dimly see that it was a woman, young, about the same age as herself. "Xi?"

The woman nodded hesitantly. "I didn't realize it was you, Fa Mulan."

"How are you?" asked Mulan, smiling in spite of the rain. "I haven't seen you since I returned."

For a moment, Xi's eyes lit up and she leaned closer, about to start a conversation. Then she glanced over at her own mother, who was watching both of them carefully. "_I _am to be married now, Fa Mulan," said Xi with an air of distance. She took a step backward. "I was betrothed on the same day that we went to the Matchmaker's. Excuse me, I have much to do."

Mulan sighed melancholically. This was not a strange reaction to get from the folk in her town. Mulan's father told his neighbors that his daughter had received great honor from the Emperor, but most townspeople assumed that he was just trying to cover up the ugly reality of his daughter's disgrace.

In part, it was not their fault. No one in the town could imagine Fa Mulan as a hero. They had not known her, had not seen her at the Wu Zhong camp or in the subsequent war. They only knew the stumbling, outspoken girl who couldn't get a match if she offered a bribe. She hoped that they would come to accept her in time, but she wasn't sure.

Not watching where she was going, Mulan barely heard Mushu's, "Look out!" before she stumbled against a set of abandoned silk screens that the rain had ruined. She didn't fall head over heels, as she would certainly have done in the past, but she landed on her palms, which got dirty and splintered. She sprang to her feet and looked at the rubbish with distaste.

Almost too late, her warrior instincts kicked in.

The pile of screens moved.

With a rip of fabric, a shape tore out of the heap. Mulan stared hard, trying to figure out exactly what it was. It looked about human-sized, but as she moved towards it, parts of it began to disappear into the rain.

The figure stood still. Mulan froze, then got up her courage and stepped closer. On either side, she heard the cries of frightened townspeople, plainly undergoing the same unpleasant surprise as she. The figure inched towards her.

Every nerve alerted to the slightest danger, Mulan followed its every move.

Suddenly, a voice from behind her said, "Attack!"

Mulan whirled around to see who had spoken.

Not a soul was there.

A rush of air! The figure, seeing Mulan's back turned, had tried to strike at her. But Mulan had been perfectly aware of her surroundings. Without a second thought, she stamped on the frame of one of the screens, flipping it upright and stopping the attack while she got her bearings.

To her right, another voice hissed at her. "The Men of Mist have come!"

Mulan wasn't fool enough to turn a second time. She swiveled her head ever so slightly and risked a glance out of the corner of her eye. As she'd thought; no one in sight.

The warrior shrugged. Well, they didn't seem too keen on getting caught, whoever they were.

"Who are the Men of Mist?" she asked, remaining as calm as she could.

"Do not question us! But know that the Men of Mist are watching," the voice boomed, and a peal of thunder echoed it.

Suddenly, the figure retreated. Mulan tried to follow, but the fog was too thick. All around her, she could hear the screams of frightened men and women. Shifting figures hurried after many of them, plucking belts and jewelry off of them. Laughing raucously, they preyed on the people of the village. One stopped near Mulan—at least she thought he was near—and began to advance.

"Ghosts! Ghosts!" the frightened villagers around her cried out.

Mulan held her ground, even though she heard someone approach stealthily from behind. So this is how they worked—attacking in tandem, and from the rear. If they _were _spirits, they were at least afraid of one thing: visibility. She let the first one approach her, trying to make out exactly what he was. Parts of his shape dissipated like smoke.

"Aha!" he cackled, and snatched at Mulan's sash. Mulan pulled back as hard as she could, and a brief tug of war ensued while Mulan undid the knot with her other hand. Suddenly, she let go of the cloth, sending her attacker reeling backward. He was balancing on one leg. Perfect. Repeating the move with which she had felled Shan Yu, Mulan swept her foot under his leg.

So. They were not insubstantial.

Mulan grinned mischievously.

Her second assailant decided to pounce on her, leaping high into the air. Mulan ducked, pulling the figure in front of her forward on the ground. The two attackers collided, and Mulan wasted no time. While they struggled to untangle themselves, her nimble fingers made a knot at either end of the sash. She jumped on the back of the second one, threw the loop around his head, and slid off his back into the ground. The noose tightened, bringing him with her. While he was busy catching his breath, she strung the other end of the silk around the neck of her first attacker.

They made a very brief effort to extricate themselves before they realized that the more they tried to separate, the more they would asphyxiate.

Mulan briefly congratulated herself on a job well done. She hoped that none of her neighbors had been too badly injured, and that she could at least round up an attacker or two before they got away. Then, she could see what these Men of Mist really were.

To her right, she caught a glimpse of Huang Lo, a great sturdy farmer in his mid-thirties, running in her direction. Relief flooded Mulan. Now she could point to her handiwork and ask him to help her! She knew that he would jump at the chance; Huang Lo jumped at any chance for self-aggrandizement.

"Here, over here!" Mulan shouted. "I trussed up two of them!"

As she thought he would, Huang Lo rushed over, brandishing a thin dagger. He had never quite forgiven himself for breaking his leg on a fall from his horse and substituting his younger brother for himself in the recent military draft. Mulan shook her head, mentally correcting his posture. Shang had taught her that even if you were twice as strong as most men, you could easily be felled if you were caught off balance.

"I don't think they're ghosts after all!" Mulan informed him. "Help me round up more, we'll—"

But the effect was not quite what she had hoped for. Instead of paying attention to her, he ran straight towards the bound men, taking practice swings at the air as he went.

"Have at you, you vile pests!" The man raised his knife.

"No!" Mulan shouted. "I've already taken care of—"

"Stand back, girl, you might get hurt."

Slash!

Huang Lo struck at the two she had tied up. Unfortunately, they were quicker than he was; they jerked apart at just the right moment and the blade cut cleanly between them. Instead of slicing into them, Huang Lo's sword severed the sash, freeing the very men he'd been trying to skewer.

"Thanks!" called one of them, and both they dashed off into the mist.

Mulan groaned.

At that moment, her mother ran up to her, shaking with cold and terror. "Get inside, now! We can't have you getting hurt. You were lucky that Huang Lo was there to look out for you!"

Disappointed, wet and half-blind, Mulan reeled around in the midst of the torrents. She could see neither hide nor scale of Mushu.

The rain beat down. The roads of her village had flooded.

* * *

"Evil spirits have raided the village!"

"Someone has done something to displease the Thunder God! Did you hear the sound of his hammer?"

"The lightning was a sign! What have we done?"

Panicked cries radiated from every house. Children whimpered and clung to their mothers. Parents looked to the ancestors for help. The stones were silent.

Mulan, however, knew that there was one person that would give her a straight answer.

He had to.

Dress sopping wet, Mulan made her way to the temple, thinking in resignation about her visit to Shang's. There was no question of her going, now. She would have to wait a week more, at least, until the road cleared up, and still more if help from the Imperial Army didn't reach them in time.

"Mushu?" said Mulan tentatively, soaked shoes slapping in an undignified manner over the steps.

Silence.

Mulan closed her eyes in frustration and uttered Mushu's name again.

She couldn't believe it! Her village, her very own village, had been raided. What's more, although the figures she'd battled had seemed corporeal enough, she couldn't trust that there was no supernatural element involved. After all, why the intense flooding at the same time as this attack? What was the reason for Mushu's odd behavior, and then, his disappearance?

"BOO-ya!"

Mulan spun around out of reflex and lashed out at the sound. There was a pained "GAAAH!" and the noise of something small hitting the floor with a flump.

"Oof...talk about mixed messages," grumbled Mushu. "First, it's _please, oh great guardian, pray tell me what happened to your esteemed presence. _Then it's a _get out o' my face!_ What d'ya think I am, the cricket?"

At another time, Mulan might have apologized. This time, she merely glared at her guardian dragon. "Where were you? You disappeared!"

"Well, excuse me if I thought the woman who saved China could save her own behind for a moment or two!"

"Oh, really?" Mulan raised an eyebrow. "Then why was it that you tried to get me to stay home moments before they attacked?" She looked suspiciously at Mushu. "You knew that something was going to happen."

"Hey, hey, I didn't _know. _It was, a, uh, a vague inkling. Yeah, that's it."

"So you wanted me to stay home and do nothing, only you changed your mind and left me? You might have stopped Huang Lo from freeing the two I tied up!"

"Oh, yeah, like it's _my _job to handle someone else's mistakes. He has his _own _guardian. Come to think of it, why do you think I could've stopped Ole Bucketbrains?"

"He wouldn't listen to me. You could have...I don't know...pretended to be a snake again!" Mulan was getting flustered. Her guardian was still stalling, all but flatly refusing to tell her what he knew about this situation.

"Count your lucky stars that you _didn't _capture them. We would have been _really_ involved in that mess!"

One infinitely helpful thing about Mushu, though, was that while he wouldn't always _willingly _give away information, lots could easily be obtained from him unintentionally. Mulan, sensing that she getting nearer to the truth, pressed the point.

"Involved? How are we not involved already?"

"Eep!" Mushu made a noise similar to the one he'd made when Khan had trampled on him. "We didn't get into any trouble!" he said anxiously to the air. "Nothing happened! Or if it did, it was an accident! You know how ladies are with their scarves, flying 'em all over the place, she didn't mean to—"

Mulan smiled triumphantly. "Who are you talking to?"

Mushu clapped his claws over this mouth.

She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a foot impatiently. "Well?"

"Well...oh, fine. There is somethin' going on that you aren't supposed to be a part of. The Great Ancestor doesn't want you getting into any danger, because this isn't something you can fight with your hands—or even your feet, though those were some flying' high kicks—"

"Mushu!"

"Though not like the fancy footwork you was doin' along that bridge with your man Shang—"

"MUSHU!"

"What I mean, is, there's something...extra...involved with this."

Mulan wrinkled her brow. "A spirit?"

"Well..."

"A guardian?"

"Not exactly..." Mushu's eyes lit up. "And it most certainly would _not _be the Thunder God, no sirree, not ever, it's not him bein' mad at someone..."

Mulan grinned. "Who is he _not _mad at?"

"We, uh...let's just say we don't have all the details just yet."

"And this is why he's sending spirits to terrorize us?"

"He's not sending them, he...Mulan, I tell you anything more and this ancestor is going to boot me off the pedestal before you can say 'anger management.' He doesn't want our family to lose our precious hero. Besides, you're the last of the Fa line. If something happens to you..."

"...the temple will go dark." Mulan nodded. "But Mushu, I have to deal with this situation. My people are in danger. Besides, I have to keep my word to Shang. He must already be wondering where I am."

"He can keep wondering, as far as the Great Ancestor is concerned. You marry that guy, and he will only be honored as long as your parents live. You stay an old maid, and he could get his stone swept for fifty, sixty years more! 'Sides, you've already brought enough honor to your family to make up for not gettin' married."

Mulan rolled her eyes. "It's nice to see my family so concerned with my welfare. I'm just going to see him, Mushu, not marry him!"

"Girl, I love ya, but even _I _don't buy that for one second. Now what you should do is keep your head down and stay out of sight, and maybe this whole thing will blow over."

Mulan looked extremely dubious as she said, "I'll think about it." She retreated to her room.

* * *

"Ahem."

Mulan, busy checking the sharpness of Shan Yu's sword, was too lost in thought to look up. She had thought about capitulating to this new challenge for about one and a half seconds, then had run to her room to get out her battle equipment.

"A-_hem."_

Mulan looked up into Grandma's face.

"It's about time you paid attention," she said, irritated. "I've been trying to hint at you to—say, what's that?"

"Oh," said Mulan, covering up the sword from habit. "Oh, it's—it's just a war trophy."

"And I'm a panda," said Grandma skeptically. "As I was _trying _to tell you, a council has been called in the village. All of the men are invited."

Mulan smiled. "I know what you're thinking. Are you sure that would include a woman who once disguised herself as a man?"

Grandma shrugged. "It will if you listen under the window."

Mulan heaved a sigh. Despite what the Emperor had said she had accomplished, concealment was still the order of the day.

* * *

"Everyone in the town must light incense tonight!" Huang Lo's voice boomed throughout the council room where the elders were gathered together. There were murmurs of agreement from either side of him. "We must ask the ancestors to reveal who among us is the troublemaker, and then deal quickly with the threat!"

Mulan, listening as best she could, didn't like the way this going. If they started to blame each other, who knows what violence could escalate before they found out the real cause.

"We must find out who has angered the Thunder God!" chimed in another voice.

"Then make him pay retribution!"

From the far corner of the room, Fa Zhou cleared his throat. "I have it on good authority that the trouble does not visit our village alone. We should consider that this is part of a wider problem before choose a scapegoat, don't you think?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Huang Lo spoke again. "Do you mean to say that this doesn't just affect us?"

"Consider," answered Fa Zhou, "that there were many tradesmen going to and fro that have been stranded, either here or outside the town, unable to continue because of the rains. If the Thunder God is indeed involved, he is upset at more than one village."

"You speak of hearsay from merchants!" Huang Lo interjected derisively. "They could cheat their way out of a treacherous bog!"

"There are also," Fa Zhou continued calmly, "reports from neighboring villages. This phenomenon has affected a significant portion of our province."

"Reports? From which authority did you receive this information?" barked Huang Lo.

Mulan could listen no further, for her acute hearing picked up approaching footsteps. She climbed up into the crook of a small magnolia and watched as two Imperial soldiers made their way inside. It struck Mulan that since her father, too, was an honored hero, he would have no trouble getting from the soldiers whatever information he required.

It didn't take them long to march inside, and Mulan soon slipped back under the window ledge.

"At last," said one council member in relief as the soldiers stood to attention.

"You must be careful. You are—or were—being watched," were the first words out of one soldier's mouth. "I spotted some footprints underneath the window. Someone may have been listening."

Mulan's eyes widened in alarm. She bent her ear to the ground and listened for returning footsteps. At the same time, she heard a gasp.

Mulan stole a look to her left. There, hiding beneath the window on the opposite corner of the house, was Xi!

Mulan smothered a grin. _So she hasn't left all traces of mischievousness behind, _she thought. _Just the outward signs._

Xi, however, thinking that she would certainly be caught, stood upright and looked through the window.

"It's probably one of the women from the town," Huang Lo was saying in disgust. "Or else Fa Zhou's good-for-nothing daughter—"

_Whack!_

Mulan's hands flew to her mouth. Had her father struck at the man? How could he move so quickly?

"How dare you speak of Fa Mulan in such a manner?" shouted one of the soldiers. "She has saved your sorry skin more than you'll ever know!"

Said savior gaped, thunderstruck, from her hiding place. So word _had _traveled of her exploits.

There was a moan of pain, and then Huang Lo's voice protesting, "But—but she—"

"Xi!" gasped a man from inside. It took Mulan a second to recognize the voice as Xi's father.

"I confess," said Mulan's friend, stepping inside, "that the marks under the window were my fault. I was listening. I was so frightened that I couldn't help—"

"—except to gossip to the other women in this town!" huffed Huang Lo. The blow he had just received had evidently not wounded his pride beyond recovery.

"I do apologize. " Xi sounded like she was trying to hold back tears.

"There, now," her father comforted her. "This has been hard on all of those who are easily frightened."

"Aren't there patrols that stop miscreants like them?" Xi asked tearfully.

Huan ignored her as he would a fly, and instead addressed the same questions to the soldiers.

Both men sighed.

"Normally," explained one of them, "we would have patrols there, but they were called away to war and cannot be replaced. Shan Yu and his troops decimated the Imperial Army. We do not have the manpower to stop local crime, even when it affects more than one community. We must do more policing with fewer troops. If you ask me, every man strong enough to bear arms should help patrol the area, waiting until they came back."

A standard plan, Mulan realized, but flawed, from her point of view. She had no doubt that the raiders would frighten a couple of patrolling townsmen out of their wits, as long as the evildoers retained their supernatural quality. This made Mulan doubly anxious to root out the raiders' true identity before they cause any more damage.

"Why don't you send for Fa Mulan?" suggested the other soldier. "I'm sure she could clear up this mess in a day or two."

Mulan winced. Perhaps her fame had spread _too _far. Her opponents might have magic on their side—she didn't even have any of her former companions to rely on.

"Fa Mulan? Huh!" scoffed one voice.

"What could she do?" demanded another. "You can't tell us that all of those rumors were _true_!"

There was a pause.

"I...I don't understand," said the first soldier, confused. "Were you not informed?"

"I tried to tell them," said Fa Zhou in irritation, "but they refused to listen to me."

"You can't mean that she actually _did _all of those things that they say she did, defeating Shan Yu and whatnot," insisted another man. "We all saw her trial at the Matchmaker's. She would drop a sword on her own foot before she could slay anyone!"

There were a few titters and exclamations of agreement.

"Enough," said Fa Zhou loudly. "If petty jealousy is the most you have to offer, I suggest we adjourn until some useful suggestion is offered. Soldiers, I like the suggestion of the patrols, although we need to think of something better in the meantime. We'll set watches at the gates."

"Yes, sir," they said immediately.

_There's no time like the present, _thought Mulan. Inching out from under the window, but making sure that those inside couldn't see her, she stood upright and brushed herself off. When the soldiers exited through the doorway, she was waiting for them.

"Excuse me," she said in her best authoritative voice.

They both jumped.

"Fa Mulan!" one exclaimed. "I had no idea—that is, I didn't think that—"

"I was not invited to the council," said Mulan, with a trace of a smile. "I think you now understand why. Please, do not waste time in trying to convince the village people further of my skills. It would only disappoint them, if I can't come up with a plan."

"_Do_ you have a plan?" asked one of them hopefully. Despite their outward bravado, Mulan could see that they were as stumped as the townsfolk.

"Perhaps," Mulan allowed. "First, though..." A new idea surfaced at that moment. Could it possibly...? "Your horses were apparently sturdy enough to take you through the worst of the mud. Could they reach Captain Li Shang?"

They exchanged glances.

"Of course," said the first soldier politely. "The...uh..._General_, however, is currently foreseeing the rebuilding of the army and a strengthening of our fortresses along the Wall. It may be some time before he has any free time, though for you I think he would make an exception."

Mulan's face burned with embarrassment. Shang had not told her about this promotion of his, and now she looked like an idiot! Doubtless, they were starting to wonder if she really were the heroine they had boasted about.

"Excellent," Mulan replied, trying to recover her composure. "You will have the fastest one of them here for me tomorrow morning. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," said one.

"Yes, ma'am," said the other at the same time.

They looked at each other, and managed to make Mulan even more uncomfortable.

"'Sir' will do for now." Mulan smiled at them. "Dismissed!"

They saluted and went out.

When they were gone, Mulan made her way back home, thoughts swirling through her head. Xi's forwardness...Shang's promotion...her delay...the soldiers' defense of her...Mushu's cryptic answers...it was all a muddle, for the time being. And now, she had to prove herself all over again.

Mulan's head lifted as she remembered the horses. Soon, at least one man would know that she was a woman of her word.

* * *

You reviewers have been very encouraging! Thank you for your support. I'm searching for a beta, by the way, if anyone's interested.


	3. Training

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan_, nor any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I also thank onescape for agreeing to be my beta. Expect Chapter Four in your in-box soon. As for your requests for Shang in this next chapter...muahahahaha.

* * *

Chapter Three: Training

"He's worrying me," said Li Bo-yin. "I wish I could blame it on the weather. He hasn't been outside, except for training, in a week."

"He's just nervous about bungling his biggest task yet," said her second son reassuringly. "He'll come around. Recall that time before he took his Academy exams? Poor man had hardly any sleep that night."

"This is different." Lady Li shook her head. "A mother knows. This is not anxiety; look at how well he managed his last campaign."

"It also happened to be his _first_, Mama. And one-time captains don't usually make it to General overnight. I know just what he's thinking: 'I made it to the top because better men than I are dead.'"

"He would never—" But Lady Li stopped as she thought of the man whom Shang had replaced. Her oldest son idolized his father. "Yes, perhaps he might. This is more, though. He's depressed. I can see it in the way he walks, the way he's more irritable."

Her son hesitated. "He hasn't gotten drunk, or anything like that, but I think he's still grieving."

Lady Li nodded sadly. "I miss your father, you know that, but not like he does. Shang was never one to let go easily of one who matters to him." She furrowed her brow. "What I want to know is, why is it getting _worse?_ It's been almost a month since he heard the news, and he was still enough in command of his men to lead them—and that girl—to victory."

"Fa Mulan?" Her son chuckled. "I'm sure he led her to _lots _of interesting places."

"Tang!" Lady Li said disapprovingly. "You know that Shang would never dishonor a woman. He's very strict with himself—too strict, truth be told, though I don't know if I could say the same for her. Disguising herself as a man, tuh! How her family can bear the shame..."

"Perhaps it's easier to bear with the Emperor's crest and the sword of Shan Yu hanging on their walls," said Tang judiciously.

His mother nearly dropped her teacup. "The crest of the Emperor? I haven't been out of the house much since your father died—did she really...?"

He nodded. "Shang told me. When he came back from war, he mentioned her several times."

"Yes, I remember." Lady Li sighed. "It's a marvel—he thinks that she _does _have some skill."

Her son nodded. "He was even thinking about training her, said she might be coming in a couple of weeks, only I suppose since nothing's happened, the arrangement is..." he trailed off. Lady Li waited while he stood there in silence.

At last, he said in an awestruck voice, "Good. Grief."

"What?" said Lady Li impatiently.

"Um...Mother?" said Tang nervously. "Do remember exactly _when _his mood took a turn for the worse?"

Lady Li thought for a moment. "A week and a half ago, wasn't it?"

Tang nodded. "Would you say it's about the same time that he would know she wasn't coming?"

There was a heavy pause.

Lady Li closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. "Are you implying that...that my son..."

"Mother—"

"That my _eldest _son..."

"Mother, it's been known to happen—"

"The one who never went to brothels with his friends..."

"Mother, they were in the same regiment, and they must have—"

"The one who has rejected every available match since he was sixteen..."

"Sooner or later it was bound to—"

"The one who has scorned noblewomen, who has refused to seduce village girls, who would not have even a concubine, who prides himself on his self-control, is _lovesick _because of a girl that he couldn't tell apart from a man?"

Tang wisely kept silent.

In an uncharacteristic fit of temper, Lady Li slammed her teacup onto the table. "It cannot be! You must be mistaken! Otherwise, he—no, I would know if he—"

All of a sudden, her face crumpled. "My son likes _men_!"

Tang's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.

"But—what?—WHAT?—no!...No, you can't think—"

Lady Li broke down sobbing. "How is he going to s-sire an heir?"

"_Mother_," said Tang emphatically. He wished he were as good at having a commanding presence as Shang was. "It's not that at all, trust me, it's just that he's never had an opportunity to—"

"What's going on?"

Both Tang and Lady Li jumped. Shang had entered the room without their noticing; he could be very quiet, when he wanted to be. Tang smiled with relief at seeing Shang's quizzical expression. He hadn't heard the whole thing, thankfully.

"What's this about my liking women?" Shang asked suspiciously.

"I didn't know that there was anything _wrong _with that," snapped his mother. "Forgive us for discussing such a rumor in your presence; I wouldn't want to _offend _the eldest Li child."

In one sentence, Shang took control of the situation. "Honored Mother, please stop speaking in riddles. Tang, I hope you haven't said anything to upset her."

"She's taking your...friendship...with Mulan the wrong way," said Tang delicately.

Shang looked angry. "Mother, Mulan and I _are _friends. We have in no way behaved dishonorably, nor have I even approached her as anything more than an instructor."

"No, no, no." Tang struggled against his giggles. "Ma thinks that you've fallen for her because she's the closest thing to a man that would bear you a son."

Shang rocked back on his heels in complete shock.

"_What?!_"

"She probably looks just like a man!" his mother said coldly. "How else could she fight among soldiers?"

Shang sighed. Tang noticed the circles under his brother's eyes and felt a pang of sympathy. Shang had a lot of responsibility thrust upon his shoulders nowadays, and his mother's misdirected tirade wasn't helping. "She fights using her agility and intelligence to win conflicts," Shang replied patiently. "She looks nothing like a man, she's..." Shang cleared his throat. "Well, she's very slender, and she has very big, dark eyes with long lashes, and her lips—"

"I knew it!" exclaimed Tang in triumph. "You've been pining for her!"

Shang reddened. "I have _not _been pining. If I look less than well, it's because I've been busy."

"Not too busy to ask to train her," Tang shot back.

"She happens to be the best warrior in the realm," Shang retorted.

"Too bad she didn't think your time was worthwhile!"

"It was a REQUEST!" Shang bellowed, balling his fists. "She didn't _have _to do anything! She owes me nothing; I've treated her badly, and I wouldn't blame her if she stayed away!"

Tang raised an eyebrow. "Shang, be rational. She knows you like her, and she's increasing your affections by toying with them. Don't you know the 'catch-me-if-you-can' game, Shang? All women play it."

Shang's lip curled. "She's above that."

"Really? It seems to be working."

A look of pain crossed Shang's features. His mouth formed a thin line, and he stalked out.

His mother had stopped crying, looking thunderstruck after her eldest son.

"Do you know, Tang," she said, "I think you might be right. Heaven help him."

* * *

Four more days went by, and Shang's mood steadily worsened. He locked himself in his room day and night, confining his weapons practice to his quarters. Occasionally, he would ride out into the night, all night, and come back bleary-eyed and looking rather lost. Tang had no doubt that if he had the slightest excuse to visit Fa Mulan again, Shang would be on his horse and riding through the night to get to her. But she hadn't offered him any encouragement, even in the way of friendship.

Tang's expression soured. He had hoped his brother would have fallen for a worthier woman than that.

It was worse, though, when Shang's eyes lost their wild expression and began to grow dull and listless. He applied himself well to his work, eager to be worthy of his new position, and prayed for hours at the ancestral temple. Tang suspected that he was trying to hold on to the memory of his father—the most precious thing that he had left. Tang wished he could be more helpful, but there was little anyone could do when Shang was in one of his moods.

* * *

The next morning...

"A visitor to see you, Master." The servant bowed in Shang's direction. "A lady. She entered the gates without any ceremony. It is most strange."

Shang's eyes fixed on the man.

_Oh, please let it be...don't be a fool! But if she...steady, now. Don't panic._

"Did—did she give her name?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"Yes," the servant said. "Fa Mulan."

There was a split second of silence.

Shang practically overturned the table in his haste to rise. Bidding a quick farewell to his brother, who had been dining with him, he had to restrain himself from racing down the corridor at breakneck speed. He halted in a most undignified way right before the doorway and eagerly looked out.

"Mulan?"

There was an answering squeal of delight. "General Li Shang!"

Bright round eyes peered out at him over an intricate yellow fan. The figure was short and bony, and the hairdo had so many twists to it that Shang wondered how she let it down at night.

The girl simultaneously fluttering her fan and her eyelashes was most certainly not his friend.

Disappointment seared him. She hadn't...after all that, she hadn't come.

"Get out," he ordered.

"General Li," breathed the visitor. "I am sorry for having misled you, but it was the only way I could gain entrance to your home."

"Get _out._"

"I have come this way with my mother. We have been waiting at your doorstep for some time—"

"And you didn't see fit to introduce yourselves?" Shang scowled.

The girl batted her eyes innocently. "Why, we couldn't make it to the gates!"

"A terrible difficulty, I'm sure," said Shang sarcastically. He was pretty sure they hadn't employed any new obstacles at the gates since he had last ridden out of them. "Must I make myself clearer? You and your mother will leave these premises immediately."

The lady looked like she was going to object, but seeing Shang's irate face, she thought better of it. "Good day—please consider me for a wife in the future," she said hurriedly, before exiting the room.

Shang made sure she left, following her out of the house and to the gate...

...Where two dozen young women were waiting for him, crowding the entrance.

They all turned to face him, gobbling up his appearance with their painted eyes.

"GENERAL LI SHANG!" they all shrieked.

It was only Shang's quick reflexes that saved him from a silk-draped stampede. He hurled himself against the doors, pushing them closed as quickly as he could, and sought refuge inside his house.

_Why me?_

* * *

Two days and 46 impostors later...

Tang tried to keep a straight face as he cornered his brother by the stables. "There's a Fa Mulan to see you, brother. She's as fat as a New Year's pig and has hair nearly down to her knees. Warrior material?"

Shang rolled his eyes. "I can't believe this. How did they know she was coming, anyway?"

Tang looked guilty. "I might have gotten drunk one night at the tavern..."

"Oh, great. Thanks a lot, Tang. Every eligible female in the city is going to be knocking on my doorstep, pretending to be Mulan."

"Sorry. Hey, at least I'm spending my free time guarding the doors for you. Speaking of which, I'd better get back. I'd let the servants take over, but they don't know all that you've told me about the real Mulan. Any message to relay to our newest fraud?"

"Tell her that I—hold on," he said as a courier entered. Too late. Tang had gone.

Shang accepted the scroll from the courier and asked, "Where did this come from?"

He bowed. "South of here," he said. "Not more than a few days away. Some soldier gave it to me; said it was urgent."

Shang nodded his thanks.

His mother swept outside, looking at him curiously. "I overheard. A bit to the south, he said? Is it from one of your recruits?"

"It might be Ling. He lives near there." Shang had wondered if Ling were even literate. And what news could he have to convey?

"Well, at least say your farewells to our new guests before you open it," she harrumphed.

"The message is brief. I can read it without making them wait."

"You refuse the ninnies near our estate, and I understand that. But I bring in every marriageable candidate I know, and you reject them, even the likes of Madam Cho's daughter!"

"I do not want Madam Cho's daughter for a wife."

"At least make this a temporary postponement!"

Shang unrolled the scroll in her direction so that she could see the length of the message.

His mother raised an eyebrow at the writing. "Fa...Ping?"

Shang nearly dropped the scroll. "_What?"_

In his eagerness to read it, he nearly tore the missive apart.

_To General Li Shang:_

_Sir, I regret to inform you that the village of Yu-Wen, Hubei Province, is struggling with a local band of pillagers following the excess flooding that has blocked the main road. I understand that the troops are spread thin across China, and this is not a request for aid. It is my belief that the military presence here is capable of dealing with the threat. My humblest apologies for the delay—I know that military reports are usually sent every three weeks, and it's been almost four. The presence of these brigands is hindering our operations, though we hope to put things right within the next week or two._

_I am at your service once we have finished, but unfortunately, I must postpone my arrival in person. I assure you that you will receive a full report as soon as possible._

_Fa Ping_

When he finally lowered the scroll from his sight, he found his mother eyeing him—or perhaps the letter—disapprovingly. "It's from that girl, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

Shang's face broke into a broad smile. "There is no other who would write this."

"Oh, I see." His mother's tone grew more scathing. "Very _clever, _as you have so often called her, to disguise a love letter by signing a man's name to it. I only hope her father hasn't found out."

Shang returned her gaze coolly. "It is not a love letter, Mother," he said. "You may read it yourself. It's a military report."

Lady Li raised an eyebrow. "You haven't sent her on a mission."

"She has found one thrust into her hands, apparently. The flooded roads have blocked supplies to and from her village, and now a group of bandits is making trouble. They're probably stealing the wares of stranded merchants, and from what I can tell, have wreaked some havoc on her village. That's why she hasn't come. She must have paid heavily to get a messenger through." Shang's face sported a look that could only be described as smug. "She_ hasn't_ gone back on her word to me, and she _isn't _trying to toy with my affections. She was caught between one breach of propriety—neglecting to visit—and another—writing to an unmarried man; this is her solution." The look in his eyes softened. "She _is _rather brilliant. But," he said stiffly, collecting himself, "I'll have time to savor her letter later."

"Don't tell me that you're going to her aid," Shang's mother snapped. "She's probably made up the whole thing."

Shang took in a long, controlled breath. "Mother. As the new head of this family, I ask that you not speak of her in this way. The only deception she has ever practiced on me has been that of her gender."

"So you _will _come to her rescue."

Shang smiled amusedly. "No, I think not."

His mother blinked in astonishment. "You believe her about the bandits!"

"Yes. And believe me, a large part of me would like nothing more than to ride in with every soldier at my disposal and snuff out the nuisance that is keeping her from me. That is, keeping her from her training," he amended, too late. "But Mulan says she and the other soldiers there can handle it. If I show up now, after she's said that things are under control, it will look like I have no faith in her abilities. I want her to know that I trust her." He adjusted his shirt. "Pardon me, Mother, but I must leave you. I have two _permanent _farewells to make to Madam Cho and her daughter."

* * *

"You can't do this! It's suicide! Wasn't takin' on Shan Yu enough kamikaze for one month?"

"Um...whose life am I leading again?" Mulan asked Mushu as they headed down a dark alley, Mulan gripping Shan Yu's sword firmly. She could have brought her own, which she would have wielded more easily, but she felt this one would be good for dramatic effect. "_You _may have to answer to the Great Ancestor, but _I _serve the Emperor. He won't want to hear that I have let disappearing thieves go unpunished in my own village."

Mushu glared. "Let me get this straight. You think that the best solution to a couple o' ruffians runnin' free is to take 'em on single-handedly?"

Mulan smiled. "Is that better or worse than aiming our last cannon at a mountain peak?"

"Y'know, if I wasn't immortal, you could plant a big stone right over me right now, engrave the words 'Most Unfortunate Mushu' in big ole characters. Scratch that, you could probably make me _lose _my immortality just _thinking_ bout some o' your big ideas!"

"Relax, Mushu. I have everything under control. I'm not storming the bandit headquarters—if they _have _headquarters. I'm just looking for answers."

"Down a dark alley after sunset?"

"Yes," said Mulan simply. "I'm bait."

"Say _wha—_"

But Mushu didn't get to finish. At that moment, he was tossed off of Mulan's shoulder as a dark shape caught hold of Mulan and pinned her against the wall.

"You must be lost, my dear," said a gravelly voice. "Allow me to show you the way...after proper payment." He reached for her.

Wham!

Mushu couldn't quite see what Mulan did in the dark, but a few moments later, her attacker was on his side, moaning in pain. From what he could hear, her foot was on his neck. In a sweet voice, she said to the man, "I'm going to make a little request of my own, first."

The man swore at her, but a yelp of pain later decided to speak. "Won't get nuthin' from me, little girl."

There was the unmistakable ring of a sword being drawn. "I usually slit the nostrils of the men who call me 'little girl'," said Mulan, her voice more dangerous than normal for theatricality's sake. "Luck might be with you—if you can tell me what I need to know."

"There's nuthin' you need to know," he spat defiantly. "I'll never tell—ow! Ow, fine. But you'll regret it."

"Marauders have visited our village," said Mulan evenly. "If they really are men, and not just ghosts, they'll have recruited local thugs from each place they've looted. Otherwise, men like you would have wanted to weed out the competition. You, thief, will have seen them. You will know where they entered and exited, and if you're smart. what tracks are theirs. I have a lantern waiting half a block from here—"

"Ah, you mean this?" said another voice, one much colder than the first. A spark flared, and the lantern glowed red.

Mulan could see only a hint of sharp, dark eyes set in a long, oval face.

"Happy hunting," he said, with a smile.

There was a clang as he dashed the lantern to pieces against the wall. The light flared briefly as the lantern caught fire, and then a boot stamped on it and all was dark again.

There was silence for the tiniest of seconds, and then a true fight broke out in the streets. Mushu wished he could see what was happening; in this light, he was as apt to bite Mulan as her enemies. He couldn't hear any cries of pain coming from her; that was good.

"Lantern!" she cried out suddenly. "The lantern! Need light!"

Mushu, understanding he was addressing her, scurried to oblige, patting around in the darkness.

"Oh, you'll see your surroundings in time," said the second man, amusement in his voice. "By the way, how are you faring this evening, Fa Mulan? I imagine that blow to the jaw must have hurt."

"When there are four against you," said Mulan nonchalantly, "it's a little hard not to get hit at all in return."

_Four?_

"Uh oh," Mushu muttered under his breath.

"There are five, truth be told," the man said.

"Five of who?"

"Well, actually, there are many more, but you won't see them before you die."

Mushu still couldn't see Mulan, but he would bet that she was captured; otherwise, they wouldn't be talking.

"If I am to die, anyway," answered Mulan stoutly, "you may at least tell me what's going on."

He laughed. "Not until there's a sword through your heart."

Lantern! Mushu had found the remnants of the light. He had an interesting time trying to put it back together. And how was he going to ignite the wick?

Oh. Silly question.

Well, if Mulan only needed light...

He breathed in deeply and blew. It didn't matter that the tattered lantern had mud spattered on it; his breath was as hot as a forge.

There was a cry of dismay from one of her foes.

The light provided a brief enough diversion. Mulan, a goon on each arm, swept her foot up and kicked a glob of mud into the face of the nearest thug. He yelled in frustration and lunged for her, only to lose his balance as she kicked him right below his kneecap. Howling in pain, he stumbled for a moment. As he did, the man on Mulan's right suddenly found that his pants were alight.

"Yaaaargh!" he yelled, clapping both hands on his burning backside.

It was child's play for Mulan to free herself from one captor. Instead of pursuing her advantage, though, she ran and retreated into the shadows, snuffing out the lantern along the way. Mushu had caught hold of her hem and was now being dragged through the streets.

"I am glad you've found out all you needed to know!" called a mocking voice as they retreated.

Mulan's guardian spat out street water as they went.

"Ugh! Man, this is almost as nasty as being covered in that porridge they served at Wu Zhong!" Mushu complained. "Although I admit the mud might taste better. Hey, Mulan, what's the plan? I thought you were going to get information. And how did one guy suddenly turn into a gang?" His eyes widened. "They are ghosts!"

"Of course they're not," Mulan snapped, though she kept her voice down. "I heard them in the dark. I just didn't want to frighten you."

"You know, if you had just told me, we might've been able to—"

"Later," she replied in a whisper. "Later, we'll get our information. Right now, I have to take them down."

"Wh-what?" Mushu could scarcely believe his ears. "Did you, or did you not just get beaten by those guys?"

"I know, I know," said Mulan, sounding embarrassed. "It was an accident. I slipped on the mud." She sighed. "I should have remembered more of Shang's training. I can't _always _be impulsive. So, I'm backing off. For now. We're going to follow them, and lay them low one by one. For all their laughter, they gave one thing away: I saw them. They're as real as I am...which means we were being tricked the other day."

"Mulan, call me crazy, but that lead guy didn't sound like a drunken bum. Don't you think there might be something to the rumors?"

Mulan answered dubiously. "It would be easy to make themselves invisible in this light, the better to defeat me. Why didn't they?"

Mushu scratched his head. "Well, you'd better start thinkin' if you want answers from those thugs."

Her voice became lower still. "That last one. The one who knew my name. I want information from _him._"

* * *

Mulan took a deep breath, calming herself down and preparing for the encounter ahead. While she did, she took in a good, long, mental look in the mirror.

Had she believed too strongly in her own past deeds?

It was easy to say that she had saved China, and that she was a hero. But if she had defeated thousands of warriors without a stroke of a sword, why was she stymied by the so-called ghost bandits? The pillagers, combined with the rain, had kept her away from her training for more than a week. The bandits had almost ended her life; it was lucky that Mushu was there, and to save her, he'd had to jeopardize his standing at the family temple.

Why was this difficult? Why were her skills failing her?

_Then again,_ said a nagging voice, _wasn't it dumb luck the last time? If the mountain hadn't been loaded with snow, if Mushu hadn't been there to ignite the cannon when you lost your flint, if you hadn't taken a split second to look out of the window and spot the fireworks...where would you be?_

Mulan tucked down into a dark street corner, alert for any sign of trouble, and brooded for a while. She had few resources on her, besides the sword of Shan Yu and her guardian. Thinking of her letter to the general, she wondered if she should have requested aid, after all. _It is my belief that the military presence here is capable of dealing with the threat, _ha! The "military presence" in Yu-Wen consisted of a sixteen-year-old girl who had a grand total of one battle under her belt, a veteran whose crippled leg wouldn't permit him to perform most martial arts moves, an overzealous man who couldn't manage to finish off two bound and unarmed robbers, and two young Imperial soldiers who were probably out carousing or snoozing off their alcohol.

_Discounting the civilians armed with clubs and pitckforks out on town watch, _Mulan thought wryly.

It didn't look like much.

_Then again, I've never had the advantage before..._

Going over the list again, Mulan examined her resources, not with the critical eye of an outsider, but as Mulan. _She _hadn't looked like soldier material at the start. Maybe she could discover another diamond in the rough. Squinting, although there was nothing to see, Mulan pictured the options before her. Huang Lo she dismissed immediately. He was a coward with something to prove; never a good sign. Her father, too, she discounted, for the very simple reason that this had to be done tonight, while she could still track the thieves down. He couldn't move quickly enough to follow her. The people of her village would laugh her out of town if she asked their help.

The soldiers?

"Mushu," Mulan whispered. "Those men have probably managed to get a light again, and are tracking me. Can you distract them for a few minutes?"

"Will do." Mushu saluted.

"Oh, and one more thing." Mulan brought out another lantern, yellow this time. "Can you light this?"

"What-but—how did you know you would need one?" Mushu stuttered.

Mulan laughed. "It damages easily, doesn't it?"

"But—"

"I brought a spare." And with that, she went off to look for the two enterprising young soldiers.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find them. Late as it was, Mulan knew that without a commanding officer, they would both be up until the wee hours of the morning. "Let's see, Hong's Palace of Pleasure, no. Dragon's Ale, too expensive. The Eight Treasure Tavern...hmm." Mulan went in, hoping in the low light that no one would pay too much attention to a lone young female passing through the doorway.

The scene surprised her.

Drunken oafs brawled and milled around, staggering to and fro, clutching their drinks, sometimes none too securely. A couple of ladies of ill repute were waggling their eyebrows at the nearest prospective customer. The room was hot and reeked.

None of this was surprising to Mulan—she had seen it all before, and more. What _did _draw her attention was the tense demeanor and fairly upright posture of the two she was seeking.

She glanced sharply at them. They looked almost completely sober! Instead of joining in the frolicking and frivolity, the two men had their heads nearly pressed together and were deep in conversation.

"—Lost them in the back alley. Should have been faster—"

"—Wouldn't risk them seeing us for the world. Wish we had—"

"Soldiers!" Mulan said sternly.

Both jumped in their seats, upsetting their drinks. One hurriedly saluted, while the other busied himself with wiping off his face. "Eh, hello, Honorable Fa Mulan," said the first soldier, looking white as a sheet.

"At ease, men," said Mulan calmly, and they relaxed. "There are a few rough fellows who are, I think, following me at this moment. Nothing to worry about, but I have reason to believe that they might be withholding information from us about our ghost raiders. We wouldn't want them disturbing the peace, would we?"

"Yes, sir!" said one.

"No, sir!" the other replied.

Mulan raised an eyebrow. "I see that this is going to take some time. What are your names, gentlemen?"

Predictably, they both spoke at once. Eventually, and after several of their apologies, she found out that they were called Shueh and Nau, and that they were trained specifically in tracking down enemies, though they hadn't had much luck so far. Mulan briefed them as best she could, which wasn't easy when she was trying to cut Mushu out of the narrative. Finally, she asked them if they could track her footprints back to the place where she had left the men, in case they weren't following her, after all.

"As long as it doesn't start raining again," said Shueh gloomily.

"Yeah," said Nau, "every time we start tracking the pillagers down, the rain pours down and obliterates the tracks. It's a disaster."

"Let's start, anyway," said Mulan. "While we walk, we're going to think up a plan."

It felt good to be on the march again. Somehow, the rhythm helped to clear one's head. Slogging through muddy streets, the soldiers a few paces ahead, she felt her confidence rise—

"Be still or die!"

—perhaps too soon.

Mulan peered up into the darkness and just made out a human shape on top of a building. From his position, she guessed he was targeting her with a bow and arrow.

Accordingly, Mulan halted. The two soldiers, not having noticed, kept up their expedition. That was good. The man might think that they weren't together.

Putting her hands on her hips, Mulan said, "What are you waiting for?"

"Reinforcements," said the man. "Don't. Move."

All of a sudden, goons began pouring out from a side street.

"No!" shouted the man. "Not that way!"

The louts had bumped straight into Shueh and Nau, who had already drawn their swords. The thugs were not as well armed, nor as skilled as the two Imperials, who took down two at a time and still had all their limbs when they had finished.

Mulan threw the lantern upwards. The man, crying out at the brightness, dropped what was presumably his arrow. It clattered along the rooftop.

Mulan bolted. Instead of making for the soldiers, she went around the back way.

Lightning forked against the sky. It was going to rain again.

Mulan didn't waste any time. She held her sword high, making sure that it was at the correct angle. Sure enough, light from the coming storm rippled off the blade.

Was this really coincidence? She hoped she could find out.

In any event, her drawing her sword and being visible due to the lightning was enough to draw out the other five men from hiding.

Running and holding the sword horizontally, catching what light she could, Mulan rounded a corner and drove her sword into a knothole in a wall. She jumped up and held her position, then kicked out at one of the men as he came around the corner, chasing her. Mulan drew the sword out, pommel first, sending it into the jaw of the next ruffian. She then thrust forward again, taking a third man cleanly through the neck.

The next part, she knew, would be risky. It might involve losing the prize that the Emperor had given her.

"Whoops!" she yelled, throwing the sword hilt-first at one of the men still standing. He caught it, not believing his good luck, and resumed the chase as Mulan began to scale the roof.

The storm was getting worse. The lightning approached, nearly splitting the sky, while the thunder shook the building she had climbed.

_Thunder God, if you really are after these men, I could use a little help. _

Two more ruffians made their way onto the rooftops.

Mulan led them on a merry chase in a circle along the roof, leaping or dodging whenever one got too close. The man she had given the sword to led the pack, brandishing the weapon for all to see.

"Mulan!" called Shueh from down below. "We could use a little help down here!"

"Hang on!" Mulan shouted, praying she would make it in time.

CRASH!

The storm was almost on top of them.

At that moment, Mulan skidded on the wet roof and fell down. She looked up at her pursuer, her face a mask of terror.

"Drown in your own blood, you rat!" he snarled, raising the blade high above his head.

CRASH! BOOM!

The thunder and lightning resounded simultaneously; the storm was close.

Very close.

And unfortunately for the man holding Shan Yu's sword aloft, the weapon was both the highest point around and made of a lightning-loving substance.

Zzzap!

Thud!

There was silence, while both the criminals and Mulan observed the consequences of the lightning. They weren't pretty. The man was dead several times over.

Taking advantage of the villain's dramatic end, Mulan stood up, trying to look as imposing as she could.

"Who else will challenge me?" asked Mulan, folding her arms.

"She—she has an otherworldly power with her!" cried one.

_And you lot _don't, _or you wouldn't be so scared, _Mulan thought smugly.

They sprinted across the rooftop. One slid and fell off; the other was quickly disabled with Mulan's swift kicks.

Gingerly, Mulan reached out and touched the sword. Then her hand retracted. She would wait.

A bright red head appeared in her line of vision.

"Mushu!" said Mulan ebulliently. "Would you mind holding the Sword of Shan Yu for me?"

He frowned. "After all I've been through, tryin' to stay on these guys' tails, and the best greeting I get is—hey, why should _I _hold it?"

"Because you're not mortal," said Mulan. With that, she leaped off the roof, first making sure that there was a nice, prone oaf waiting to cushion her fall down below.

"There should be one here with a long face and sharp eyes—don't let him out of your sight," warned Mulan as she helped finish off the last of the group. "Call the town watch to help you. Wait until you're sure the townspeople have everything under control. I'm going to bed. Get some information out of the—"

Nau coughed discreetly.

"Yes?"

"Shouldn't you help us?" he asked, almost plaintively.

Mulan sighed. "I wish I could," she said. "But it's best if you both take the credit. If the townsfolk come and find that I'm at the heart of things, they won't believe that these are the real attackers."

All the same, she kept a careful eye on the proceedings. To her relief, only a token squad of bandit reinforcements came to the aid of the captives, and these were quickly dispatched with the help of the town watch.

* * *

In the morning, as if nothing had happened, Mulan strolled casually down the street. All of the men were in the public square, looking very chagrined. The sun was shining brightly on their bound and gagged forms.

"We—we did it." Shueh was still gaping in astonishment. For some strange reason, he checked the nearest man's clothing. "We did. I can't believe we...oh! And Fa Mulan, you must see this."

Shueh pointed to a piece of the man's garb. It was made from a curious material, and the top part of it looked burned.

It was at that moment confirmed that the thugs she'd caught _had _been the ghost bandits. They had used smoking hemp fibers to fabricate their ghostly appearances: an easy thing to do in the fog. They hadn't been expecting an attack, and so hadn't donned their disguises when Mulan had fought them. According to the confession they gave to Nau and Shueh, they had been paid to cause a stir in the town and supplied with the garments courtesy of a man with powerful outside forces of his own. What these forces were had been hidden intentionally from the bandits, in the event that they should be captured.

As she surveyed the prisoners, Mulan thought she could figure out which man it was.

"The one who knew my name is missing," she announced to them. "Did you not catch them all?"

Nau looked mortified. "There—there was no one that we saw who escaped us," he said. "We even went to their lair and took back the hostages they had been holding for ransom."

Mulan pursed her lips. "I noticed that the clouds have moved on."

"Yes, isn't it great?" said Shueh exuberantly. "I knew they didn't have anything to do with the spirit world!"

"If only that were true," muttered Mulan. "These men are recruited out of nowhere, given clothing that will only disguise them in the event of rain, ordered to raid us just as a storm breaks, and the source of all of this is some 'outside force' that no one knows anything about? I'm betting the clouds moved on because we missed the real culprit."

"Then we'll find him," Nau assured her. "Please, Lady Fa, do not distress yourself. You have been a great service to the empire, and you have taught us valuable lessons in strategy."

Mulan thanked him awkwardly and left, not sure if she had experienced a victory or a defeat.

* * *

"Isn't it wonderful?" her mother sighed. "The sun is shining...from what Fa Zhou tells me, it's a good thing we didn't follow Huang Lo."

"Nope." Grandma winked in Mulan's direction. "They have a better leader."

"They didn't even know it was me," mumbled Mulan.

"It was you that did what?" asked her mother sharply.

"Nothing!" said Mulan immediately. Changing the subject, she said, "In a day or two, may I leave for Li Shang's house?"

"What? You do not honestly think that it is safe to go yet! Wait two weeks," said Fa Li consolingly. "We can spare you then."

"Two weeks? It will be well into summer! I'm already starting to lose my finesse, I can feel it!"

Her mother shot her a dark look.

"Yes, Mama," said Mulan meekly, departing in silence until her grandmother stopped her in the hallway.

"One of the perks of being old," said Grandma, "is that one has a certain respect in the house. For instance, my word overrules that of Fa Li." Her wrinkles creased into a grin. "Go on, child."

"But Grandma," Mulan protested, "she may be right. The roads aren't very good, and I need someone to accompany me."

"Take the cricket," Grandma advised. "It can stand in for me."

Mulan smiled, and headed for the temple.

Five minutes later, she went out of the shrine, a small insect on one shoulder and a red dragon on the other.

"Hey, wait, you're just gonna pop over and see Shang when you feel like it? Without your grandmother? No escort?"

"Well," said Mulan, smiling, "technically I'm not an unescorted woman." She gave him a squeeze. "I have you."

* * *


	4. The Real Mulan

Disclaimer: I don't own Disney's _Mulan_ or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

Author's Note: My goodness! I didn't expect such a response for this little story of mine. I'm always grateful for feedback, positive or negative, and you readers have exceeded my expectations. A thousand thanks, and be assured that the next chapter won't be as long in arriving.

* * *

Chapter Four: The Real Mulan

Shang groaned, turning over for the fiftieth time in his bed. How much longer would it take her?

It was both a blessing and a curse to receive word from Mulan. His hope for their continued contact had been re-ignited, but the anticipation of the event was now almost worse. Four weeks had passed since he had seen her, and he had known few more agonizing times in his life. If she had broken her word, his respect for her might have been dampened a little...very little. As it was, after he had received the letter, the visions of Mulan returned to him even more glowing than before.

Oh, this was going to be difficult. Maybe only a few more days would end his apprehension.

He remembered her in her matchmaker dress. Although the porcelain doll Mulan didn't look exactly like the Mulan he had known for so long, she certainly was stunning. A few tendrils of hair clung to the nape of her neck, and one strand curled in front of her smooth, golden complexion. The light color scheme formed a pleasant contrast with her dark eyes. Her lovely round mouth...dammit. He had to stop thinking like this! How was he going to face her with these thoughts coursing through his head?

To his shame, he had begun dreaming about her...about their having a life together. He wished he could stop, but his dreams didn't seem to want to obey his orders. The dreams weren't totally indecent...yet. But they were growing progressively worse. Now, instead of picturing her nuzzling the hollow of his collarbone, in his dreams she traced the outlines of his shoulder blades, then the muscles in his back. Her nails pinched along his ribs and...

"Argh!"

Shang bolted upright, and went immediately to fetch a cup of water. His brother, who had heard him, watched his antics from his bedroom door, shaking his head as if worried for Shang's sanity.

* * *

Khan neighed impatiently, tossing his head as he struggled to make his way through the crowd without running anyone down inadvertently. Mulan knew that Shang's estate was near the city, though not exactly in the center of all this confusion. Mulan, farm girl that she was, had never seen a crowd this big since that day in the Imperial City...well, that and the thousands of Huns charging at her down the slope. Somehow, this managed to be almost as intimidating.

The wares the merchants were selling could easily catch the eye of the very wealthy, even nobility. Brightly-colored women swept languidly along the streets, eyeing those below them in rank with disdain. Men wearing loaded money belts strutted along, heads held high. Shy boys with gold glinting on their embroidered outfits stayed close to their guardians, peering out every now and then to look at the baubles and charms offered them.

"Goodness," murmured Mulan. "I wonder if he ever shops here. Khan, look out!" Two little girls broke away from their father and ran out in front of the horse. Mulan, luckily skilled in riding, reined in Khan before any harm could come to them. The father came forward, thanking her profusely, but stopped with a frown when he noticed that she was alone. He retreated into the general hubbub without another word.

"Uh-oh," said Mulan, looking pained. "I really should have waited. Or maybe gone as Ping."

Grandma had managed to dissuade her from dressing up as a man, an idea that Mulan had come up with to appease curiosity about a woman riding by herself in the streets. Instead, Mulan carried her training clothes in her saddlebags and rode in a dress, the one she had fit into when she had dressed Yao, Ling and Chien-Po as concubines.

Cri-Kee chirped encouragingly, and Mulan tried to forget about the numerous problems that she faced. It wasn't easy. She had found her way to the city all right, following part of the route that had led her north from Wu Zhong. It would take most of the day at a steady canter to reach Shang's home, so Mulan took care to pack provisions, as well as have money on hand for a stay at an inn. The problems arose once she thought of what would happen once she arrived there. Should she have written ahead of time? Would the Li family disapprove of her showing up on their doorstep? How would she stay at an inn discreetly, without making herself seem like a flirt out to win a husband?

Finally, about a half mile from town, she saw a pair of impressive gates with carved dragon handles.

"Is this the Li estate?" she asked a passerby.

"Sure enough," he said, glancing at her up and down in disdain. "And who, pray tell, are you?"

Mulan dismounted.

"I," she said, trying to look older and wiser than she felt, "am Fa Mulan."

If she had expected a similar reaction to her name as she'd had among the two soldiers, she was disappointed.

The man gave an impatient grunt. "Get in line," he snorted, and moved away from her.

Indignant, Mulan called after him, "What do you mean by that?"

He sniggered. "Just look."

Mulan's mouth opened slightly as she took in a bizarre sight.

Before Shang's house loitered a gaggle of young maidens, presumably all of prime marrying age. There were all kinds of figures, dresses and complexions, but each was very obviously on display, like a basket of ripe fruit awaiting a purchaser. Beside them stood a colorful array of escorts, from dignified older matrons to impatient fathers or uncles. As she tied Khan to a nearby tree and approached the scene, she heard several of the girls quarreling.

"I'm Fa Mulan!"

"You overstuffed pomegranate! _I'm_ Fa Mulan!"

"I got here first!"

"You can't have saved China! You're so skinny you'd blow over in a gust of wind!"

The ladies were too dignified to push each other, but there was certainly some jostling as they all strained to approach the gates. Mulan had no such pretensions, and skillfully wended her way through the pack of women to reach the entrance to Shang's house.

Only when she went closer did Mulan see what was stopping them.

A tall, lean young man stood in front, barring the gates.

"No visitors," he was saying firmly, in a hoarse voice that suggested he had been repeating this phrase for some time now.

"Have you seen him?" A young girl came over with her mother and looked at Mulan interestedly.

"Not in a while," Mulan said vaguely. The girl looked disappointed. Then her face brightened. "But you have seen him?"

Mulan had to grin at her face. "Only once or twice." She seemed sweet enough; it looked like she had been dragged here at the will of her parents. "You?"

"Oh, no!" She blushed and looked down. "I—I'm only here on my father's request, I—well," she lowered her voice, "I don't really like pretending to be someone I'm not. But I'll do it for my family."

"I know the feeling," said Mulan sympathetically.

"So, what's he like?" asked the girl.

"Don't be silly," her mother snapped. "No one here's seen him, or will likely see him. We can't get past that annoying younger brother."

"He's a good man," Mulan said, not knowing what else to say. "He's loyal, he's brave, he's a born commander, and he has a way of being strict in a kind of older brother way."

"She's making it up," scoffed an older girl knowingly.

Mulan raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

"I hear he wears his shirt partially open when he's practicing his moves," giggled another.

Mulan couldn't help a smug smile. "You mean, he doesn't remove it altogether?"

She was rewarded by a shriek.

"Never! That would be too scandalous...I think I'd collapse!"

"I'm sure you would," muttered Mulan, trying to elbow her way to the very front. At last, she got to the head of the line and found the way blocked.

The man she was facing had a rounder face than Shang and wasn't as muscular, but there was something about his sharp eyes that reminded Mulan of her friend.

"And why are you here?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Mulan felt very foolish. "I—I'm Fa Mula—"

He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction. "Back of the line, along with your eleven identical twins."

"But I am!" cried Mulan. "I am here to see Li Shang! He's going to give me practice in weapons training!"

He paused, examining her closely. Airily he replied, "You're not Fa Mulan."

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh? And how do you know?"

"You haven't come prepared for training."

Mulan wished more than ever that her grandmother hadn't insisted on the dress.

"I brought my clothes. They're in my saddlebags. Please..."

He shook his head authoritatively. "Absolutely not. Be off, you charlatan, and leave the poor man in peace."

Mulan's countenance darkened. If she couldn't gain his trust, her warrior skills would never improve...and she might never see Shang again. "I warn you, I do have combat skills," she said, hoping that her glare would help her out.

The man wasn't impressed. "_I _am the one issuing the challenges today."

Mulan remained where she was. "I am here with Li Shang's permission. If you do not let me enter, I will be forced to fight you." _Please, take the bait..._

He laughed. "What are you going to do? Fling your fan at me?" Fed up, he took her by the shoulder and gave Mulan a slight shove.

"Ah!"

Her high kick caught him in the jaw.

Mulan abruptly backed away from the man, shocked at her actions. She hadn't actually meant to hit him! It had happened so—so suddenly. With her moment of hesitation, though, she lost the advantage, and she found herself fighting for her balance as he rolled to his feet and advanced on her.

Lunging at him, Mulan made a calculated miss and grabbed hold of one of the gate knockers. She pushed with all of her strength. The gate inched open just as Shang's brother came at her again.

It was a sweeping blow, meant to finish off an unworthy opponent before she could regain her equilibrium. Mulan, however, did not mean to go down without a fight, and her reaction to him caught him off guard. The bunch of bachelorettes that had been standing so close to the door now hastily made room for the two combatants who were taking measured hits at each other.

Mulan won round one when she dodged a straight jab and leaned against the open door. Grabbing the arm he had nearly punched her with, she helped him through the opening.

They struggled further, just inside the gates, but she had the element of surprise. She wrestled him down on his back, pinned his arms to his sides, and stated in front of the dozens of gawking girls, "_I _am Fa Mulan!"

Out of the blue, a shy voice answered, "I'm Bao Ssu."

Mulan smiled at the girl she had been conversing with earlier. "Nice to meet you."

Immediately after that, a man in brown who was presumably a servant scurried over the small rise that marked the beginning of the estate.

"Sir! Master Li! One of them has made her way in!"

"Oh, for the love of..." came a voice that made Mulan's heart leap. A dark head appeared over the rise and Shang caught sight of her.

In a flash, Mulan took stock of what she looked like: daintily dressed, without an escort, with a muddied hemline, holding down a man who was a respected member of the Li household.

_Terrific. All we need is a huge pot of rice and a wet fish._

What could she possibly say now? "I've come for my training, even though I'm two weeks late?" "Sorry for attacking your dear brother?"

Li Shang was staring at her, openmouthed.

Embarrassed, Mulan let her opponent up.

The man scrambled to his feet, glaring at her. "Brother, she's breached the perimeter!"

Without a word, Shang strode to the gates and heaved them shut. He then looked at Mulan, totally ignoring the man that lay by her feet.

"Mulan? Are you all right?"

She nodded wordlessly.

He broke into a grin and gave her shoulder a fervent squeeze before he remembered where he was and stepped back. "Sorry. Ahem. It's, it's very good that you came."

"Careful, Shang, she might hit!" warned the man, groaning as he tried to rise. "When I blocked her way—"

"You tried to keep her _out_?" Shang growled. He looked down at his brother in profound disapproval.

"She didn't look like a warrior," explained the young man, oblivious his brother's anger.

"And what about when she was beating you into the ground?" Shang demanded. "Did that give you a clue?"

"Uh..." he looked sheepish.

Shang shook his head and strode over to the man, helping him up. Once he did, he gave him a punch in the shoulder. "This, Fa Mulan, is Tang, my younger brother."

Brushing himself clean of dust, Tang made a small bow. "Deepest apologies, Fa Mulan. I am glad that you've arrived at last."

His eyes narrowed, even though his voice was pleasant. Mulan felt as if every hair on her head were being scrutinized.

In a low voice, Shang said, "Don't be glib."

"You are mistaken. I was merely attempting to show respect for the woman who has so obviously captured my elder brother's attention." His smile widened, but the sharp look didn't leave his face.

This was something that Mulan was unused to. Once Shang had finished sizing someone up, he let that person know immediately what he thought. Li Tang, though, seemed to reserve judgment indeterminately, and she wasn't sure at all what kind of an impression she had made on him.

Fortunately, Mulan knew better than to blush at Tang's statement. "Li Shang is very generous," she said coolly. "His training will help improve my fighting skills tenfold."

"Ah, but would the illustrious Fa Mulan really _need _to improve?" he said sardonically.

"Tang!" said Shang sharply.

"I had a good deal of luck my first time around," Mulan admitted. "Shang has said that I show promise, but I still do not possess the minute warrior skills that can only come with extensive training. To win my victories, I have so far needed to outthink my enemy rather than outfight him. That may not be the case in the future." It was her turn to regard him. She risked being seen as impudent, and said daringly, "Are you quite finished with your interrogation, sir?"

Tang's eyes widened.

"See?" Listening to the glee in Shang's voice made Mulan certain that she had made the right decision. "She's all right."

At last, Tang said grudgingly, "She's all right. Come on, I'll help you put away your saddlebags." He couldn't resist a parting shot. "Tell me, do you always fight in a dress?"

"Only when defeating Shan Yu," said Mulan sweetly.

"Ah, yes, _he_ told me all about that," said Tang, darting a quick, teasing look in Shang's direction. "And did she make a splendid concubine, brother?"

"Shang!" crowed a voice from inside the house, saving the fortunate Tang from a painful drubbing. "Why haven't you come to dinner?"

Mulan and Shang looked at each other, Mulan with an apologetic expression. Shang, however, gazed on her so happily that Mulan thought it might be worth angering Lady Li to be on the receiving end of that glance. "I'm coming, Mother. I am sorry for the late notice, but we will be receiving a guest for the meal." Mulan smiled back, and Shang, seeming even more elated, said, "You'll have to tell me what your favorite dinner is, for the next time you come here."

* * *

There was no sound except for the occasional clink of a teacup as someone set it down. The Li house was totally silent. Every so often, the servants would enter to bring food for their guests—one dish after another, Mulan noticed. She restrained her eyes from bulging at the sight of such an elaborate meal. It was difficult to know how to reply when Shang voiced his regret that they hadn't prepared something better.

"This is magnificent," answered Mulan. She couldn't resist adding, "And even if it weren't, I think I'd survive. I've been fed soldiers' fare, after all."

"A bowl of rice isn't _that _bad," said Shang, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"It is if you've spilled dinner for the whole camp!" Mulan shot back. "I couldn't stand the sight of rice for a month afterwards."

He laughed. "I've often wondered how you used your excellent strategic skills to create such chaos."

"Oh, yes, excellent," said Mulan sarcastically. "You wouldn't believe how hard I worked to think up the clever plan of 'avoid Yao's fist and if it goes into Ling's stomach accidentally, at least you're safe.'"

Shang nearly choked on his soup. Lady Li raised both eyebrows.

"Ouch," he said. "Were you hurt?"

"Not that day," said Mulan. "There was a small...misunderstanding. It ended with the entire camp in chaos...not a very good first day for you, Captain. Oh! Sorry, General."

Shang winced. "I should have told you about the promotion," he said. "It's just that at the time, you were going to be heading for my house soon, anyway, and I wanted to tell you in person."

"Yes, sir," said Mulan, her eyes twinkling.

The look in Shang's eyes at that moment puzzled her greatly. He was staring at her intensely, all traces of humor gone.

"Did I say something wrong?" asked Mulan, hoping she hadn't overstepped her boundaries with their banter.

"No," said Shang, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. "It's—it's just good to see someone smiling so freely in this house. There has been little laughter over the past month."

Mulan bowed her head in understanding.

"You are certainly very intimate with my son," Lady Li broke in. "How well _did _you know him before you were found out?"

Mulan looked at Shang. "I—please tell me if I presume too much—I believe we were just starting to become friends," she said. "We had come to trust and rely on each other."

"She saved my life," said Shang quietly.

Lady Li seemed not to know what to say. At last, she found her voice. "Where and with whom are you staying?" she asked at last. "I assume you did not travel alone."

"I am staying at the Red Ox Inn," Mulan answered guardedly.

"Of course Fa Mulan would not travel without a parent or guardian to watch over her," Tang added composedly, his gaze flickering in her direction.

_Oh, here it comes. He knows that I...wait. A guardian?_

"Of course!" she exclaimed, a tad too enthusiastically. "That is, my chaperone did accompany me as far as this house, but I am afraid he is a bit reclusive. I think it might be too late to begin training, so I shall leave for the inn soon and will return in the morning."

"There's no need," Shang cut in. "You may stay here, and I can teach you how to fight in low light." He looked hard at her. "Your...chaperone...may meet you here, if he is anxious for your safety."

"That _would _be helpful," said Mulan, wondering what that look meant.

"That's settled, then," said Lady Li briskly. "Fa Mulan, a servant will show you to your rooms and make sure there is a hot bath awaiting when you come in from your practice. Try not to keep her out too late, Shang." She nodded, and all rose from the table.

* * *

He met her near a circle of barren earth at nightfall. They stood apart, eyeing each other as if for the first time.

He cleared his throat. "Fa Mulan," he said sternly.

Mulan tensed. It was the voice that he used when he was upset with her.

"Sir?" she asked, out of habit.

He sighed. "I know that you only practice deception when you must, but please do not lie to my mother. You are traveling alone, not with any guardian. Please do not think we will behave badly toward you for coming here unescorted. I am the master of this house, now, and all within will treat you as they would treat any man who came through these doors."

Mulan hesitated. She didn't want to reveal Mushu until she had his consent, but she didn't want her captain to lose faith in her. "Shang, I...I actually am traveling with a guardian."

There was a pause.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, clearly surprised. "You mean to tell me that you have a reclusive relative waiting for you at the inn and who is willing to let you spend the night alone in my house?"

Mulan took one step closer. "Not a relative, Li Shang. A guardian."

"Oh," he said, sounding unsure.

"You are right, however, in saying that he is not waiting at the inn. I'm not sure where he is, as a matter of fact. Please, do not ask me any more. I don't wish to reveal him until he wants me to."

"This...this guardian," said Shang hesitantly, "has he recently been awakened?"

"He has been with me ever since my sojourn to the Wu Zhong camp," said Mulan honestly.

"Then he has...helped you in the past?"

"Absolutely," said Mulan. "He has been a great companion and friend, though a bit mischievous at times."

Another pause.

"During training?" Shang asked.

"Of course."

"And at the mountain pass?"

"I couldn't have set the avalanche rolling without him."

With some irritation, Shang asked, "So it was his idea?"

"No." Mulan was taken aback.

"And getting the arrow—I assume you had some help in that?" He was clearly fuming. "What else are you hiding from me, Fa Mulan? Did he dress up those soldiers? Distract Shan Yu before he came to finish me off? Defeat the great Hun himself?"

"I can't believe you're saying this!" said Mulan, indignant and deeply wounded. "First, you imply that I'm a habitual liar, and then you accuse me of taking credit for someone else's work! No wonder you won't accuse me of being here inappropriately—you have so many other insults up your sleeve that you hardly need another!"

"I hardly know you!" Shang argued. "I thought I did, but then..."

"But then what?" asked Mulan angrily. "Then you found out I had a guardian?"

He was silent.

In a dangerous voice, she said, "Speak _now,_ sir."

"It—it was before," he said.

"When you thought I was spinning a tale for your mother."

"It was when I knew you were not coming here."

Mulan drew a sharp breath. That was not the answer she had expected, and certainly not in the hurt voice in which Shang was speaking.

"I thought you were a man, Mulan; you aren't. I thought you acted alone during the last war; you've obviously had help. I thought that you would come in two weeks—I thought you had shown up at my door when a girl pretended to be you—you've had almost forty people pretending to be you here this week!"

Mulan stepped closer. "And you're blaming me for every single one of those incidents?"

"How am I supposed to know what to think when what I know about you is constantly changing?"

"You know, my guardian helped me as much as you!" she said. "Without him, our company would never have reached the battle front in time to stop Shan Yu. Also, the falcon would have alerted the Huns to your presence and they would have made short work of you." He started to say something, but she cut him off. "And I'm wondering why you think I had so much help in camp, since for the first two weeks—and you can be sure he was with me—I made every mistake that I possibly could!"

"Fine." The anger in his voice was receding. "Mulan?"

"Yes?" said Mulan, not quite ready to calm down.

"Did—was there _really_ trouble in your village?"

"You know, your nose makes a great target in this light."

"Just tell me, please."

"If you want a report—"

"Then there _was_ trouble."

"Thirteen men. Raiders. One escaped in the darkness; the rest you'll have at your disposal in three days. Soldiers Shueh and Nau will add their reports to mine. _Now _will you believe me? Because I'm not wasting any more time—"

"I believe you. Also, I apologize for doubting you." He sighed, but spoke again before she could interrupt him. "I know it's not your fault. It's just made me realize how little knowledge I actually have about you, about what you've been through. Fa Mulan is a tricky creature, as much by others' will as by her own."

"She doesn't mean to be," answered Mulan. "Most often, she is forced into it. Mulan would gladly have been a woman in training if she would have received equal treatment with the men. She would have loved to tell you about her guardian if she thought he would allow it, especially at some points..."

"Such as?"

Mulan felt her face grow hot. "Such as the time when you thought that I gave away our position."

He looked startled. "That was _him_? Why did he—"

"It was a careless mistake," said Mulan.

"He ignited a rocket by mistake," Shang repeated, disbelieving.

"He might have coughed." Mulan flinched, realizing that she had given away too much.

"You have a _dragon _as a guardian?"

Mulan smiled. "I'm not saying a word."

Shang looked to the left and right, as if sensing an attack. "Is he here?"

"I don't know."

Shang walked close enough for Mulan to see his raised eyebrow. "Wouldn't he be hard to miss?"

Mulan giggled.

"What?"

Mulan stepped nearer and stood on tiptoe, so that they were nearly nose to nose. "I _refuse _to tell you."

"I suppose I deserve that."

"Yes, indeed."

"Thank you for putting up with me. I really don't merit your attention." He stepped back, looking abashed. "I spent the entire afternoon making you as welcome as I could, and I managed to blow it all in about twenty seconds because I couldn't keep quiet about my frustration with our circumstances. And now, I'm in even bigger trouble than I was when you first came, because you are even _more _amazing than I remembered you."

"I am neither more nor less than I ever was," said Mulan simply. "If you need to be sure of something about me..." She held out her hand and grasped his forearm. He returned the grip.

They were clasping arms as they had done at the Tung Shao Pass, when she had reached out for him from her horse. There had been neither captain nor soldier, neither woman nor man, just Mulan and Shang, holding steady as the world churned around them. It had broken them apart before. Not this time.

For many moments, they stood together in silence.

All of a sudden, Shang tugged on her arm, trying to pull her off balance. Mulan lost her footing but tucked into a neat roll. She tried to kick behind Shang's knee but he dodged in time. She fended off the coming practice blows as she got to her feet, and then they began to spar in earnest.

Mulan recognized Shang's gesture for what it was. It wasn't aggressive, merely challenging. It was a sign of trust and affection.

They were friends again.

* * *

"I can't believe I forgot to pack nightclothes," Mulan groaned as they both staggered back to the house, panting and sweaty. "I'll just put on my dress again, I suppose..."

"Nah," said Shang. "My mother wasn't much bigger than you when she was younger; she still keeps some of her old clothes. I'm not sure why; I would say it's one of those inexplicable mysterious things that women do, but I'm sure you'd correct me."

"It's not mysterious at all," said Mulan. "I've seen my mother do it. Not only is our clothing quite expensive, but as we age, we begin to feel very self-conscious. I think my mother keeps her old garments in hopes that one day she'll be able to fit into them and look young again."

"Ah," said Shang. "Interesting. I wouldn't have thought of it that way." Gently, he poked her beneath her ribs. "I suspect that you wouldn't have that problem."

Mulan hissed through her teeth at his touch.

"Mulan!" Shang backed away. "I'm sorry; please forgive me. I did not mean to be so familiar, I just..."

"You weren't," said Mulan, struggling for breath. "We're companions again, now. It's just that you happened to poke one of the bruises I got fighting those miscreants from Yu-Wen."

Shang looked concerned.

"It's just a bruise," Mulan said truthfully.

"Are you really all right?"

Mulan laughed. "You know, if you had been this concerned for me when you gave me that black eye, I might have survived the initial training better."

Shang reddened.

Mulan nudged him. "You don't have to be so careful around me," she said. "You and I are fine on the battlefield, but when I'm here, as Mulan, you treat me like porcelain." She poked the bruise herself. "I won't break, Li Shang."

He relaxed—was that a sigh of relief? "Feel free to remind me of that. I'm still combining Fa Ping and Fa Mulan in my mind. Ah, here we are. Mother? Can Mulan borrow a nightdress?"

"In the back room," called Lady Li.

Mulan sighed in relief at how well he was handling this. "Will you help me pick one out? I'm not very good with these things."

"Uh..."

Mulan smiled at him. "Or you could wait here, if you'd rather."

"Oh, I'd much rather go with you," Shang assured her. "It's just that some of them...some of them my mother had made for my father."

"Your father wore nightgowns?" Mulan joked.

He gave her a light punch on the shoulder. "Silly. No, some of them are my for my father's _appreciation_, if you will. And since I wish you to remain under the illusion that I am not a complete scoundrel, you should probably pick one out yourself."

Mulan laughed. "Come on. You are a gentleman, and I trust you."

"Oh, now I _have _to be good about it."

* * *

She lay asleep, curled up into a ball, though there were plenty of covers. He wondered if she were unused to the colder temperatures farther north. He'd ask a maid to bring in another brazier the next time she came. Then she would be comfortable, and her cheeks would be rosy again.

Shang couldn't help stealing into her room to admire her. The covers were up to her neck, so he didn't have any qualms about seeing her. Besides, his gaping once she had changed was quite enough. Shang was sure that it was the first time he had upset his tea since he was ten. He would never hear the end of it from his brother, and doubly so, if he should be discovered now.

He bent down in spite of himself, visually tracing the curve of her jaw, the dent that her nose made against the pillow, the smallness of her hands even through several layers of blankets.

"You have made me sure of you again," he said softly. "I wish I could make you think well of me."

There was no answer. He had hoped that she was sound asleep.

"There is one thing, though, that I don't know, and I'm afraid to ask it while you're awake, so I'll practice now." He checked her breathing. It was slow and regular. "Do you care for me?"

A few moments passed, and then Mulan murmured something about lightning and thunder before snuggling deeper into the blankets.

Shang shook his head and stood up. She must still be dreaming. He really should go; he had risked enough by being here. "Sleep well. I will."

In fact, Shang got the most peaceful sleep that he'd had in months. His slumber was so sound that he didn't notice the pitter-patter of rain begin against his roof.

* * *

A/N: For those wanting more information on the clay soldier aspect of this story, I suggest doing a web search for "Xian terra cotta warriors".


	5. Tracks

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan _or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

Chapter Five: Tracks

"Mulan! Mulan, wake up! It's raining!"

"Wonderful," said Mulan, struggling to open her eyes. "What else is new?" It was only then that she realized who was speaking to her. "Mushu?"

"Shang asked me to wake you up. Poor man tried, but as you know, only a true master can make Fa Mulan arise on time."

"Shang—what?" said Mulan, still groggy. "Where's Mama? When's breakfast?" At long last, she opened her eyes. "Where am I?"

"Man, it's a good thing none o' your enemies ever tried a surprise attack on you," grumbled Mushu. "You'd never see daylight again. Not that you will today, anyway—the sun has run away and hidden."

Trying to get her bearings, Mulan looked frantically around. She was in a beautiful large room with a green silk coverlet on a huge bed, vases of jade and porcelain adoring the furniture. Last night came back to her in a flurry of rapid images, each one of which was more horrifying than the last.

She had argued with Shang—she had teased him in a way that was not far from flirting—she had confessed her feelings for him! Mulan buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe I said that!"

"What? You _what?_"

Mulan yawned and stretched, then rubbed her forehead agitatedly. "You're right, Mushu. I am very foolish when I'm sleepy. Last night, I told Shang I cared for him like thunder does for lightning! It was the first thing that came into my head, with the attack on our village and everything." She cursed inelegantly. "Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?"

"Uh, Mulan? You _do _know that Shang's about as confident as a fieldmouse around you, right? He prob'ly has no idea what you meant."

Mulan raised an eyebrow.

Mushu snickered. "Shoulda seen him tryin' to wake you up. He called your name loudly, but you just rolled over. Then he kind of stood there, like he was wondering what to do next. Then he got up his courage and tried to shake you awake, but you just snoozed right through it!"

"And then..." Part of what Mushu had said came back to her. "And then he asked _you_?"

"Well, I appeared to him, since there was no point hidin' after you spilled the beans on us last night."

"I'm very sorry about that. I just—"

"Eh, he's going to be part of the family, soon, anyway. I might as well get chummy."

"Even if we did marry, _I_ would be a part of _his_ family," said Mulan, looking troubled as she said it. The prospect of giving up her family, even for him, wasn't a happy one. "What was his reaction?"

Mushu rolled his eyes. "'Bout the same as yours was, at first. '_You_ are Mulan's guardian? How do you _guard_ anything? You're barely as long as my forearm!' Then, he told me he knew why you were so upset as his implying that I did all your work for you."

Mulan smiled. "Hopefully he didn't slap you."

"Nah. Then I would have scorched him."

"Mushu!" Mulan looked shocked. "You wouldn't really—"

"Just say the word!"

"MUSHU!"

"See? It only took me a little while to get you from sleeping soundly to ready to kick butt! How's that for technique?"

Mulan decided she had better get up before he annoyed her further.

"Oh, by the way, Shang says the rain might keep you here tonight. If you need a change of clothes, he says he can ask a seamstress to come here and make some adjustments."

Mulan frowned. "Adjustments to what?"

Mushu shifted one of his legs. "Well...see, Lady Li sent one of her servants to buy cloth for you right after you came. S'pose she thinks you should be," in a prim-and-proper voice, "properly accoutered."

Mulan raised her eyebrows. "I thought Shang was the one who ruled the household."

"Technically, but Shang's about as interested in domesticity as you are."

That got a laugh from Mulan.

"Ah, so the dragon _did _awaken you," said a voice from the doorway. "It's good that he can manage that much, anyway."

Shang leaned casually against the open door, looking much more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. "My deepest apologies, again, for my unwarranted accusations last night. I must admit, I was picturing something a little more—er—substantial."

"Hey!" said Mushu. "You want substance, get the Great Stone Dragon!"

Mulan smirked. "You mean, the one that you broke on the day that he was selected to be my guardian?"

"Hey, that was a minor mistake! And even if I did impersonate a guardian when I was a gong-ringer—"

By now, Shang was snickering. "It looks like the two of you have a lot in common!"

Mushu turned around to glare at Shang. "Say one more word, Pretty Boy, and I'll fry ya. I can singe below the belt, you know."

"About this rain," Mulan interrupted loudly.

They all sobered and tried to make sense of the situation. It was time to recount the full story of the bandits, which Mulan did, up to the point where the leader of the pack had taunted her. Shang agreed that they had to find him, and suggested that Shueh and Nau be set on the trail at the next sighting of him.

"I should have been quicker when he was in my sights," Mulan lamented. "I bungled everything."

"Mulan, I have the feeling that if you hadn't identified the problem, there would be sudden downpours all over China without anyone having a clue what was going on."

"I was lucky that I survived the encounter," she said moodily.

"Maybe." He patted her shoulder reassuringly. "But you also had all of your resources on hand, and you used them to the best of your ability. It is much easier to be lucky when you make the right decisions." He added pointedly, "Like deciding that the worthless recruit Ping might just make the cut after all."

"It turned out to be the riskiest thing you've ever done."

"Also the most rewarding."

Mulan couldn't help looking at him radiantly. Shang only stared at her, and Mulan found herself embarrassed. She had obviously reminded him of her untoward confession of affection, and wished him to forget it as quickly as possible. He hadn't said anything, nor behaved any differently towards her. He obviously wished to avoid the subject.

"I..." she found that she was lost for words. Great ancestors, could she do nothing right?

Her unfinished thought lingered in the air, the silence growing between them. Suddenly, Shang suggested, "Would you like breakfast?"

"Yes," said Mulan with relief, walking with him contentedly until they reached the dining room. With a sense of wonder, she took in the pork dumplings, sweet peas, and rice pudding. "Goodness!" she exclaimed. "This is my favorite—how did you know—"

"I asked around," said Shang, indicating Mushu. For some reason, he looked shy.

Mulan couldn't resist taking her hand in his. "You are a gracious host."

"You are an honored guest. To be honest, I wouldn't be this accommodating for anyone else."

"There you are!" Tang appeared out of the opposite doorway, his hair looking rumpled. "I can't believe how soundly I slept last night; you?"

"Very well," said Mulan politely, half-wondering whether Tang had emerged at that moment just to break them apart.

* * *

"Demoted."

The broad-shouldered boulder of a man rocked back on his heels at the proclamation of Yumen Guan. His throat parched, he managed, "What number?"

"Twelve. And count your lucky stars, my friend."

The previous Twelve looked astonished at his sudden promotion, while the aggrieved former Five cast his gaze into the distance, hoping to find some relief from his general's penetrating stare.

All at once, Yumen Guan turned his back on Twelve and addressed the ranks of followers. "Now, my cherished elite. What does this teach us?"

Ten volunteered. "Do not send in the local thugs until after you, sir, have left the scene."

It was an odd thing, these hardened men lined up like ducklings before an admittedly tall but hardly imposing personage. Yumen Guan's long, narrow face and wiry frame, riddled with battle scars, might have been worn well over another sort of soul, but not his. The pensive general didn't square his shoulders; he compressed his frame and kept his hands folded in front of him, as if he wanted to appear as small as possible. He had worn the outside of a brutish giant the first time his men had met him, but the posture was always the same, no matter what form he took.

The command was entirely in the eyes.

"Additionally, your are to reward those local louts a bit better than last time," finished Yumen Guan, his gaze transfixing each man at his core. "Those ludicrous hemp-wearers are just competent enough to bait the trap and take a beating from the soldiers that the Empire sends in."

"They could not muddle through it in a worse way," muttered Seven.

"True that they cannot bluff full warriors. Even two green Imperials were able to dispatch several of the henchmen without much trouble. That's hardly the matter at hand, though, is it? We were unsuccessful. That is _troubling_, my dear soldiers."

Yumen Guan's "dear" edged very near to a death threat—not that this was as dire as it might have been. Death was extremely common among the elite; the useless mask of a body was ripped off and the soul exposed to the torments of the elements before it donned a new disguise. This was why his cherished ones owed him their lives, and occasionally their deaths.

Some, such as Seven, rebuked their commander under their breaths, but overt rebellion was as impossible now as ever. Rebellion against Yumen Guan meant an end to solid existence; the seditious spirits were sent away from the group, forever restless, reaping misery and tracking fear through towns without recompense or redemption. Consequently, Seven held his borrowed tongue and bent his antagonism instead on his fellows.

"_Why_ have there not been more Imperial recruits sent? We attacked Fa Mulan's village; she should be priority number one! We could have captured at least ten Imperial soldiers if they sent enough in to catch the 'bandits'!"

Two, who was more privy to Yumen Guan's plans, remonstrated. "We don't need ten; we need two. Our gateway…" he nodded to Yumen Guan "…has Thunder God on his trail. Those two we sought are new, but still good trackers; their instincts will allow us to conceal the trail, even if we can't have their memories. Thunder God would be unable to send a human agent after him."

"More rain," murmured Three. "Much more, and the clay will start dissolving."

There was a murmur of assent, and from Yumen Guan loudest of all.

"Why was Fa Mulan left nearly alone?" repeated Seven.

"Perhaps they do not appreciate…her." Yuman Guan bowed his head, eyes focused inward, one hand folded over the other. "No more of that. We shall see how they take to danger from someone other quarter."

His gaze lifted up abruptly as his thoughts began to coalesce. "The trackers can't be left alone; we need them. Follow them along the roads, but don't let yourselves be seen. Hire some more thugs, give them the hemp, and tell them to go after the town of Hong Lin. Captain Wan is staying there; we'll capture him." He cocked his head to one side. "I am still proud of you," he said finally, and retired to his tent; fatigue was, unfortunately, a side effect of whichever human form he chose.

* * *

"Do you see anything?" asked Shueh, gripping his sword hilt tighter. Since Mulan hadn't given them any specific orders after the bandit capture, he and Nau were making their way back to the Imperial City—or trying. They were near the home of General Li, but Nau had argued that Mulan had likely already appraised him of their deeds in Yu-Wen.

Their boots kept getting stuck in the mud that still hadn't dried from the rain. They had brought the thugs to justice, but still had no explanation for why they would choose Yu-Wen and the surrounding villages as a good place for raiding. There were precious few artifacts and gold there. Still, maybe it was the first place that the bandits got at when they had crept into the interior. Shueh shook his head. If things kept up like this, the whole nation would be bandit-ridden before a month had passed. Yet what could they do? Too few men, too few resources, and not enough recruits had been trained.

There were no travelers on the road that night. One would have to be hopelessly lost, incomparably foolish, or a soldier of the realm to be out on these roads at this unnerving hour.

Shueh was grateful for Nau's silent presence. They had gone through basic training together and had both opted to be trackers. Their superior officer had noticed that they tended to come to the same problem using different approaches, and had paired them at once. Nothing made them feel more useless than the night, where they often could not see enough, even with lanterns, to pursue their quarry.

Shueh had, by now, noticed that Nau had not answered his question. Frowning, he jabbed his comrade with an elbow. "Hey. You're not sleeping on the job, are you?"

There was an intake of breath, a hoarse laugh, and then the figure that he had thought was his friend turned on him.

Wham! Shueh was hit in the nose, the throat, and the belly before he could speak again. This was no inexperienced soldier—this was a seasoned fighter, and Shueh was no match for him. In a last effort to see his attacker at the very least, he held his lantern aloft.

The face was the face of his friend, down to the mole on his right temple and the few frail chin hairs wafting in the low breeze. But the expression...

Nau's eyes were lit with a mad gleam. He was inspecting Shueh as if to make sure _he _was who he said he was.

"Trust me," said the man in a voice that did not belong to his friend. "I'm very good at my job."

He hit Shueh squarely between the eyes with his sword pommel.

* * *

When the tracker at last came to, he noticed that there was no light. This would have been expected, had there not been the smell and crackle of a bonfire quite near him. Shueh tried to raise his eyebrows and realized that they...who _were_ they?...had blindfolded him.

His hands and feet were unbound. That was strange.

"Take yours and go to the three who have caught our band stealing from Hong Lin. Take their faces. Raise no alarms."

The speaker's voice was unmistakably Nau's.

Shueh struggled to reconcile the man he had known and grown close to with the man who was now, by the looks of it, planning another raid on a defenseless village. Was Nau really a traitor? Had he disguised his voice all along, trying to get within the Imperial defenses in order to let the bandits in?

There was Nau's voice again! Only now, it was coming not six inches from his ear.

"It must be some kind of sorcery!" Nau was saying. "I don't think they've stolen my voice, since I still have it, but—"

"Wait, wait." Shueh held up a hand, and then realized that this would not work if Nau was blind, too. "Who are you? Are you really my friend? Do we have any idea what is going on here?"

"Number Three," said the not-Nau, "tell our prisoners to be quiet."

What felt like a stave drove the breath from both men's lungs. Gasping for air, Nau managed to whisper, "Sorry about that. If you put up any resistance it'll get you more of the same."

Shueh hesitated, then said in a similar whisper, "To be honest, I was thinking of collecting information first."

"Oh."

"Nau, is it really you?"

"Yes. The man you hear is planning to go as me along the road to Xi'an. I have no idea how far, or why. First, Jianwei, then Mulan's village, then Hong Lin—"

"Jianwei! Why would they attack that area? It doesn't have any strong fortresses; what sort of game are they hunting, Nau?"

"They hunt Imperial soldiers," said Nau with a pessimistic sigh. "I wish I could say we're the first ones to fall into the trap. They lure in a small military force with reports of banditry, and the next thing you know, the soldiers get pummeled by these warriors."

"Rendering us out of commission." It dawned on Shueh. "They steal our faces…our commanders don't know we're gone!"

There was a moment of quiet, during which most of Shueh's hope fled the scene.

He breathed in deeply. "Next question. Why does he have your voice now? When I heard him before he attacked me, it didn't sound like you at all."

"I think that whatever they're able to do takes a little while to work to full potency," Nau answered. "I was captured when I went to relieve myself a few hours ago."

"Did you at least get to go?"

"Very funny. We have to find a way to get out of here!"

"Not so fast. I want to find out what I can."

"Two," said the leader, overhearing them, "don't bother explaining _what. _There is only one thing that matters—_why_, and that they can be told without risk."

Two stepped forward. "We cannot find our way home. Not to our lands, our temples, our kin. So, we will _make_ a home for ourselves."

Shueh listened closely to the leader. The voice raised a memory. Wasn't that—no, it couldn't be—!

There was a brief moment of muffled laughter. Then one of the men shuffled his feet.

"Here," he said gruffly, and placed a hand on Shueh's forehead. Shueh felt a tugging inside his very depths, as if his soul were agitated. "That'll hold you 'til we need you again. No screaming like the others, now."

Shueh felt baffled. What could he possibly be talking about?

"Nau?" he said hesitantly. "Did you feel that?"

For the second time that night, Nau did not answer him.

Dreading what he would find, Shueh reached for his friend.

He grasped a handful of Nau's shirt but no more. His friend was writhing on the ground but making no noise. Was he in pain? Was the same thing going to happen to Shueh himself?

Then he felt it. A deliberate, inexorable change. He felt his face grow dry and hard. His arms felt heavy, and there was a gurgle as the bones in his hand disappeared, as if he were becoming hollow. This should have hurt tremendously, but the only thing he felt was dread as the changes swept through his body.

The blindfold was lifted.

While his eyes still functioned, he looked down at his knees. They were stiff and brittle, the consistency of dried clay. They _were _dried clay!

"I can't believe I'm going to have to adapt myself to your face," grumbled Two as he trundled away. "Before all this, I thought the spirit world was a place of solace. Tuh!"

The first cohesive thought that Shueh had was, _General Li has to know. I have to find a way to tell him._

How, though? How could he come up with a plan in so short a time? His body was contorting in odd ways and partially immobile. He was in the middle of a circle of dangerous spirit-men, who weren't going to let him get far before they caught him.

Shueh thought hard. He was groping into the dark for an idea when an image came into his mind: Fa Mulan causing a bandit to zap himself with lightning before he knew what hit him. In her short time with him and Nau, she had taught them much, including a key lesson: use your surroundings.

Shueh looked down. His eyes were fading; the only thing still human was his left arm. Below him was that damnable mud. With a sudden inspiration, he reached over and clumsily took hold of his right thumb, which was already solid terra cotta.

Breaking it off was no more painful than the rest of the transformation had been. Shueh stuck it upright in the mud. Any soldier worth his salt would find it if he scouted the area.

It was the best he could do.

As Shueh lost consciousness, he knew that it wasn't much of a chance. The camp was makeshift and the men could easily disappear into the woods. Besides, only someone disoriented or completely crazy would venture out onto these roads before all evidence was lost.

* * *

"This is _not _the way to Chien-Po's place; how many times do I have to beat it into your skull?" yelled Yao, trying simultaneously to upbraid and keep upright a languid Ling, whose mind was rather foggy as the result of a few too many drinks.

"Must 'ave punched it in one ear so hard it flew out the other side!" Ling giggled, taking time out from their jaunt to turn a pirouette.

He and Ling might not be the smartest soldiers around, but they served their captain loyally. Now that Shang was general, he had pressed them into service, ordering them farther north to try and restore some of the villages that Shan Yu had devastated. Yao and Ling had planned to make a half-day halt to reunite with Chien-Po, but on the way there, his friend had discovered the delights of Mad Mao's Homemade Spirits. "Guaranteed to put fire in the belly," the shopkeeper had told them. Replace "belly" with "brain," and Yao was pretty sure he was right.

"That does it," Yao grumbled. "Next time, I'm going alone. And I won't stand up for you every time you try and drink someone under the table. You know, Mulan can hold her liquor better than you."

"Aww, you're jush jealoush because my light figure appeals to the ladies."

Yao snorted. "Yeah, like the ones that ran away from you in terror when you sprang out from behind a changing screen!"

"I was only trying to make at least one of them unshteady on her feet, so I could sweep in and catch her!"

"One more word outta your mouth—"

"My foot!"

WHAM!

Unfortunately for Ling's teeth, he stumbled upon the lone finger just as Yao finally lost patience.

As is normally the case with people who find themselves at odds with gravity, Ling lost all sense of balance and flew backward. His body, inebriated though it was, remembered his military training just in time for him to make an awkward backbend, getting his hands filthy.

At that moment, Yao's toes also discovered the finger.

"Yow!" yelled Yao, clutching one foot in both hands, though he was still sober enough to remain upright. "What the—"

He lit a lantern and examined the thumb in the mud. It was perfectly formed, detailed very precisely. The mud around it had dried and it had stuck fast.

"Where's the rest of it?" Yao wondered.

"Hunh?" Ling said, still having trouble focusing.

Yao smacked him. "The sculpture! Someone made a ceramic thumb—where's the rest of the hand?"

"Right here," said Ling, holding out his own hand.

Rather than waste energy in hitting Ling a second time, Yao uprooted the thumb and dropped it into Ling's outstretched palm, then began searching the area for any debris.

"That is really weird," he muttered after several minutes. "Is it a signal, or something?"

Ling put one thumb in the air experimentally. "The road is congratulating us?"

Yao scoffed. "For what?"

"Uh...for making it this far?"

"You're being a terrific help today."

"Really?"

"NO!"

Ling yawned unconcernedly. "Well, if we can't find the rest of it, maybe we should ask around."

Yao held his hands out, indicating the space around him. "Ask who? There's nobody out here!"

All of a sudden, Ling's eyes grew more focused. "Maybe that was the idea."

There were several footprints, but the ground was hard and Yao and Ling weren't expert trackers. They searched for any more clues without success.

Finally admitting defeat, Ling was about to throw away the thumb. "That's weird. There's a little crease on one side. Looks like a scar."

"A _scar_? Go back to bed, Ling. That's a clay finger! No one would put—"

"Remember that cut on my forearm when you clipped me accidentally with your sword?" Ling drew his arm out of his shirtsleeve for inspection. "They look kind of alike, don't you think?"

The light was bad, but Yao had to admit that it did look like a scar. "This isn't right. We need to tell somebody. Somebody sober," he added for good measure.

They both nodded, and plodded along the road for a few more minutes.

Suddenly, there was the sound of huge footsteps behind them.

Yao and Ling looked at each other nervously. "Who would be out on the roads at this hour?" asked Yao.

They both gripped their sword hilts harder.

The two tried to walk faster, but the footsteps quickened as theirs did. There was no question about it. Someone was following them.

"Stand back!" said Ling in a high-pitched voice. "I warn you, I'm armed!"

"Oh, no!" Yao growled. "The lantern!"

Sure enough, the light guttered and they were left in darkness.

All of a sudden, a large hand seized each of them around the shoulders.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" yelled Yao and Ling, drawing their weapons.

"I saw you walking along the road," said a pleasant voice. "Would you like some of my pork-fried rice?" There was a pause; then, "Oh, dear, you're light's gone out. Here, I'll light my—" There was the sound of someone rummaging around in a pack.

By this time, the two soldiers had recognized the voice.

"Chien-Po!" said Ling in unmistakable relief, clapping his friend on the back. "How ya been?"

A new lantern ignited, and Chien-Po's face smiled down at them.

"I am well," he said. "You look a little bit shaken, though."

The two glanced at each other.

"Uh, no, no," said Ling. "Just a little bit excited to be back on a mission after all of these weeks with nothing to do."

Chien-Po sighed. "You don't lie very well, Ling. And what's that in your hand?"

"This?" Ling gave Chien-Po a mile-wide smile and said, "Oh, just a little souvenir...you know, we were just passing through and thought we'd get something to commemorate the moment!"

Chien-Po just shook his head. Reluctantly, Ling opened his hand and displayed the curious artifact. "We found it about a quarter of a mile back there. We don't know who it belongs to, or why anyone would make something like this."

"Any ideas?" asked Yao.

Chien-Po shook his head. "I must admit, it's a mystery to me. It must be something important, though. I sense a powerful aura about this."

Yao and Ling winced, thinking their friend was about to being chanting, but Chien-Po just closed his hand over the object. "We have to make sure nothing happens to this. We'll carry it to Captain Yi and see what he thinks."

"Why not just show it to Sha—to General Li first?" Ling asked.

Yao groaned. "But his house is back the other way!"

Chien-Po glanced from one to the other. "I don't think this is important enough to bother him."

Yao snapped his fingers. "Rats," he said. "Well, who _wouldn't_ mind a visit from us?"

For a while, all was silent as they contemplated the long list of people who would very much mind a visit.

Then Ling offered, "We could go see Mulan. If nothing else, we'll ask how she's doing."

"Yeah!" chimed in Yao. "Besides, we need to get used to seeing her as a woman."

Ling giggled. "At least she's used to seeing you as a man, King of the Rock!"

"RRRRRRRAH!"

The ensuing scuffle was short but caused considerable damage. Luckily, Chien-Po was holding Shueh's thumb; otherwise, it would probably have been shoved up one or more orifices. Both Ling and Yao were worse for wear at the end of half an hour, at which point it was agreed that they two would keep their appointment, while Chien-Po would travel to see Mulan.

* * *

The rain had abated, as if it were only passing through, but rather than returning to her village, Mulan was actually heading out on Khan for a brief space. Lady Li glanced out of the window, watching her go, and bit her bottom lip. Her son had offered to ride with Mulan up to the Hill, an outcropping about two miles from the city. That designing young woman had put up only the feeblest of protests, telling him that he would have to take full responsibility for any anger kindled by her delay.

"Nonsense," Shang had replied. "An extra day won't worry them. You must have ridden hard to have come here near sunset; you must be tired, after that and a sparring match. Besides," he added, "I've been thinking about your training. It really would be easier if you were to stay with me two days instead of one. However, as I realize that your family might not be able to spare you for that long each week, I would be more than willing to ride to your home every other week...if it wouldn't impose too much."

"Not at all!" Mulan had exclaimed, darting a quick look at Lady Li as if to ask for permission. Shang's mother had winced, but nodded reluctantly. "We would be glad to have you." She gave him a smile. "Well, I would. Though we might have to prevent Grandma from offering marriage to you."

"A union with such an illustrious family would bring great honor to my house," Shang had said, his face so droll that Mulan had nearly sprayed tea all over the table. Lady Li, however, had known her son for much longer than Mulan had, and she was not quite as amused by the tone in his voice.

She had been observing the way the two interacted, and though she was satisfied that Mulan would help Shang recover from his recent bereavement, she was not quite certain that Mulan would be a suitable wife. Granted, if Shang had to choose her or not marry at all, Lady Li would take the latter option. But she did not like being left out of making such an important decision about her family's future. Neither was she fond of the searing gaze that her son sneaked at Mulan whenever Shang thought she wasn't looking. Lady Li had seen too many sly coquettes to think that Mulan didn't notice Shang's glances, and, like her son Tang, was more than a little distasteful of Mulan's seeming imperviousness.

Now, they had gone out for a ride together. It was most irregular, practically scandalous, had he and she not been comrades during the war. It seemed that all rules broke or bent before Mulan, including the one about Shang not falling in love. He had had the pick of wealthy women for years now, and instead he wanted a scamp who gave no sign that she returned his affections.

It wasn't up to Lady Li, though, anymore. Shang stood in his father's place, and his mother had the suspicions that she would soon not be the only mistress of the Li estate.

Even so…

"Mistress! An urgent message for the Master from Lieutenant Shueh!" cried a servant, gesturing to where a slightly bedraggled army man awaited, both hands resolutely behind his back.

Lady Li narrowed her eyes. "Sounds important...I'd better fetch them myself," she said, half-hoping to catch Mulan making overt advances and be able to send her home.

* * *

The wagon creaked to a standstill, with the mud molded over the wheels like clay.

"Mama, we're going nowhere!" cried Bao Ssu agitatedly, as her mother got out of the cart to berate the hapless driver. "And please don't worry about what Li Shang will think; we have no chance of winning back his favor. Please, let's just get help," she added quietly.

"A thousand curses on these muddy roads!" was the only answer.

"Ma-MA!"

Chien-Po sighed as he sighted the aggravated family trying in vain to pull ahead of the muck. Why couldn't the world be calmer; why fret over every little incident? The road would dry; the wagon would move again. There were plenty of inns along the way. Besides, if he was correct, this was one of the families that had pushed its daughter into impersonating Mulan. They really had no business in this town in the first place.

If Chien-Po had had Tang's tongue, he could have given them a sound verbal lashing for making fools of themselves. Instead, he trundled over to the wagon, bowed to the father and mother, and asked if there was anything he could do.

"I'm Bao Ssu," said the girl, "and thank you for asking. We're stuck, though, and I don't see how you can—"

"Child, why are you talking with that stranger? I've told you a hundred times—"

"Maybe he can help me lift—"

While the Baos debated, Chien Po serenely stepped past them and single-handedly tugged the wagon free.

"Thank you," said Bao Ssu, looking at the ground. "If I were the real Mulan, I'd give you a medal."

Chien-Po smiled beneficently. "Actually, you would probably have insisted on thinking of a creative way to leverage the weight out of the ruts all by yourself. I know her."

"Really? I only talked to her for a little while, back there," said Bao Ssu.

Chien-Po frowned in puzzlement. "I haven't heard about her presence here."

Smiling, Bao Ssu failed to reply but instead nodded over Chien-Po's shoulder. Chien-Po about-faced and squinted at two distant figures on a hill, both on horseback. "Oh…she's with General Li. That makes sense."

"I hope it doesn't make _too_ much sense," said Bao Ssu, with all the hauteur of one habitually shy, yet unable to resist passing judgment on occasion.

"They'll act with discretion, I'm sure," came a voice from behind them.

To his consternation, Chien-Po realized that he was speaking to a new soldier. This man had been traveling for some time; mud had baked into his pant legs and his stride was painful to watch. It looked as though he had been fitted with someone else's shoes.

"Sorry," said the man genially. "I'm Lieutenant Nau Yan-Bei of—"

"Are you…laying a false trail?" asked Chien-Po, before Nau could finish.

"My general asked me to," said Nau airily. "It's…complicated. Oh, dear." He had caught a glimpse of the two riders, silhouetted against the sun. "_That_, however…is not so complex."

Shang and Mulan had dismounted and were rather close together. Mulan appeared to be touching Shang's neck, although it was hard to tell from that far away.

"Um," said Bao Ssu thoughtfully. "I'm thinking they don't leave much to the imagination."

Chien-Po only shook his head.

* * *

"And that," said Shang, "is how you crush a man's windpipe."

"It's…lethal, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said frankly. "Asphyxiation is very swift after your opponent has been fighting you. It's important for you to get beneath his initial strike if you can, because your reach is shorter."

Mulan nodded, and performed the feat again—slowly, of course—the three different ways he had taught her. Shang corrected her hand position, reminding her of the difference it would make when the enemy was wearing armor.

"It doesn't take much, does it?" Mulan winced.

"Neither do pressure points," Shang reminded her. "No matter how tall or strong an opponent is, he still has the same vulnerabilities as the next man."

"Shang, almost every fighter I know is taller or stronger than I am; I hardly notice it anymore," laughed Mulan. "I take it as a given. What I want to know is, how is my finesse?"

Shang tilted his head to one side, examining her from head to toe. "Above average," he conceded. "You'll get better."

Mulan felt taken aback. Above average…was that really all? She'd have to do better than that to face experienced fighters in war, or measure up to the high expectations some had placed on her.

"I hoped to be a natural fighter at _something_," she said, disappointed.

"Oh, no, that isn't what I implied," said Shang evenly. "Above average is actually quite good considering where you started in terms of coordination and holding your ground."

Mulan nodded mechanically.

He favored her with a knowing glance. "I see. 'How could I defeat Shan Yu, then?', she wants to know."

She blushed at being found out.

"Surely you must know that Shan Yu's reflexes were superior to yours, and he'd had more training and experience. You simply came at him from a different angle of attack than he was expecting. The reason you are so very dangerous, Mulan, is that you can tell in what direction an opponent will move—and _why_. Much of swordplay and martial arts is mental strategy and guesswork, and your motor skills will have an interesting time playing catch-up with your fighter's mind. Now, if I—"

He feinted. Mulan didn't blink.

"You see."

"LI SHANG, have you any idea how long you have been outside with her? People will talk! And where is that chaperone of hers?"

Wide-eyed, Mulan whipped around and saw Shang's mother surveying them.

_Eeep. _

Mulan could have thought up some quick excuse, but Shang's words came back to her: _Please do not lie to my mother. _She no longer had to protect her life with deceit; those kinds of excuses had to cease.

Without warning, a wheezing cough erupted from the other side of the hill.

"I'm…a bit…ill…ya see…" the invisible person choked out. "Those young an' healthy are safer from disease—uh, young_er_, I should say, cuz you don't look at day over—uhm…wait, where was I?"

"My guardian has a meandering tongue…and at times, wandering wits," said Mulan, hiding her mirth. "He is very old."

"Practically ancient, girl. Why, when I—"

Chirp.

"What?"

Chirp!

"Oh, yeah, right, a-HEM, a-HEM, gack, oh, mah throat!" This was followed by very convincing gasping sounds. Mulan was nearly convinced herself.

Lady Li wrinkled her nose. "Is that smoke I smell?"

"Um…" said Mulan and Shang at the same time.

It felt surprisingly good to have someone else sharing the burden of secrecy. Shang was looking like he'd just cracked an expensive vase and hidden it behind his back.

Suddenly, Shang's mother laughed at their expressions. "Oh, I see. You're just like your brother, Tang, in some ways, my eldest…showing her about cannons, I suppose? Well, make sure that Fa …"

"Fa Mushu," finished Mulan.

"Fa Mushu doesn't inhale too much of it." Her hands flew to her hips, as if she'd forgotten to chastise them. "And get inside, posthaste!"

Shang nodded, and Mulan simply bowed, wondering if a _Yes, sir, _were required.

"My mother loves watching fireworks and hearing cannon blasts, though she won't admit it," Shang whispered to her. "She's not as sedate as she seems, sometimes."

"Hmmm," said Mulan, sizing up her commander and wondering just how hereditary that Li trait was.

* * *

"Just why is the general ordering this, and for whom?" questioned Chien-Po, trying with limited effect to turn everyone's attention away from the hill. "Is there something that I should be made aware of?"

Nau forced a smile. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Good," finished Bao Ssu's father, "for my family needs to make good time if we're to arrive at Xi'an on time. The Baos have never been patient people."

"Ah, I s-s-s—" Suddenly, Nau gulped, and the expression on his face went completely blank. "The Baos…are meeting you there? They hail from…east of Xi'an?"

"A little over twenty miles east; you are correct, sir."

Something like a hiss expelled from Nau's mouth.

"Direct descendant of the old family, I wonder?" he said.

Something cold shook Chien-Po inside. Nau's eyes weren't right. The family continued the squabbles, oblivious, but Chien-Po had the sensation that a predator had suddenly entered among the fold.

Was he losing his mind? This was…this was only a fellow soldier.

"…Must, it _must _be a direct descendent," breathed Nau. "Worth much more than tracks, more than this form. Our general will love me for…this." He had caught Chien-Po's stare. The large man's love of meditation and spirituality heightened the feeling of claws tightening over the group.

"Bao Ssu," said Chien-Po urgently. "Tell this man nothing."

He shivered, though the air was humid.

Nau's eyes were not right.

"I can't see the harm," answered Bao's father for her. "Our family line goes back many centuries; we are proud of this. We have extensive land—"

_"From your thieving forefathers."_

Ssu's mother, shaken at the loathing on Nau's face, was behind Chien-Po, with the father close on the left. Bao was to his right. Chien-Po could not protect them all, and despite all rational appearances, he felt that he would have to.

"How unpleasant you are," said Ssu plaintively to the man, who only looked at her more balefully than ever.

"Get behind me, now," said Chien-Po. "General Li! General LI!" But Shang and Mulan had already gone.

Ssu moved, almost but not quite quick enough.

The blow took her off her feet, and the thunderclouds advanced.

* * *


	6. Ancestors

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan _or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

My, this place has turned interesting since I posted my last chapter. Speaking of which…I have a four word message for Wills Lover. (I have a four _letter_ message, too, but that would change the rating.)

Stop spamming our fandom.

In case that wasn't clear enough: you seem to think that writing consists of plopping down a handful of semi-coherent ideas like so many horse droppings—only yours are much more poorly digested—and then splattering the page with whatever punctuation hasn't run away from you, screaming in terror. (I don't know who taught you that periods are _optional_ at the ends of sentences, but s/he needs to be sent to Grammar Boot Camp.)

If you're a troll, congratulations on inflicting your nattering on a sleepy fandom. Now get out. If you're just a fanwriter who believes in dumping a slew of rotten stories on us before you so much as spell-check your first "effort" …fix those mangled fics of yours, and _soon_. I _will _report you otherwise, for violating the Terms of Service.

However, you did do one thing. You brought me back, to stay. Just for you, I'm adding **next chapter posted **dates—not one of which will go beyond 15 days—to all future chapters of mine. Congratulations, and please take your illiteracy elsewhere. Thank you.

- Araeph

* * *

Chapter Six: Ancestors

"Urgent news, General!"

Mulan, Shang, and a rucksack full of disgruntled Guardian hastily made their way back to the Li compound, Shang's long legs quickly leaving the latter two behind. Apparently, there was a soldier who badly needed to see his commanding officer.

At present, the sun was at their backs, but it was quickly clouding over. The hour was near lunchtime, a fact that Mushu told Mulan in a polite, well-mannered way.

"Hey, MULAN! Cri-Kee says it's time to eat! If you don't, he says he'll climb into the tea again!"

Mulan rolled her eyes. "Give me some credit, Mushu. We're almost there, and Cri-Kee is _not _climbing in my teacup!"

Her guardian climbed out of the sack, wrapped his tail around her topknot, and dangled down between her eyes.

"Yah!" Mulan tried to brush him away, but he held on tenaciously.

"Who said anythin' about your teacup? He says it might be Lady Li's this time!"

Thoughts of the failed Matchmaker exhibition poured through Mulan's mind in a wash of guilt and panic. Mulan, thinking only to avert yet another catastrophe, sped up and reached the soldier scant moments after Shang did. With Mushu clinging to her head, Mulan couldn't risk peeking out from behind Shang, but she recognized the speaker's voice, anyway. It was Lieutenant Shueh, of all people.

Mulan marveled at the ease with which Shang switched his intense focus from one matter to another. Five minutes ago, he had been open and comradely. Now, no emotion was forthcoming, not even from his eyes.

"Yes?" asked Shang briskly as the soldier bowed.

"Lieutenant Shueh Wen reporting, sir. I bear news from the town of Hong Lin. There have been bandits roaming through its alleyways, but let us thank the celestial spirits…" He let the faintest smirk slip through before resuming an impassive military expression. "…and our ancestors that the force we sent was sufficient to quell the uprising. Of course, one would probably need to credit the barrels of wine, too. Those scoundrels were deep in their cups when the soldiers attacked. They stood no chance. Five were killed; the rest were captured."

"Hey, what 'bout our village? What are we, boiled beets?" Mushu grumbled as he unwound himself from Mulan's hair and clung to the back of her neck instead.

"Where are the bandits being held?" Shang demanded. "Would you advise moving them?"

"My opinion, General, is that there is simply no need. Second-rate thieves need a sound public lashing, but beyond that, they do not appear to be dangerous. Most of the destruction was to property." A somewhat muddy scroll changed hands. "You will find here a full inventory of the items taken, how many were recovered, and who still requires compensation. It covers the three weeks that I was stationed there."

_Three weeks? _Mulan's eyes widened in shock.

"Mmff mmff?!" came a muffled interjection from her shirt collar.

Shueh had just lied to a superior officer…a _very_ superior officer…about where he had really been. If she had been a man, Mulan might have yelled, "What about my village?" before she could stop herself. Her conditioning to be quiet and demure held in place, though. She would wait and see what else he said.

"Captain Wan was most thorough," Shueh continued, unashamed and unaware.

"So I see." Shang paused for a moment, as if considering something. "Tell me, Lieutenant, did it happen to be raining in Hong Lin?"

A slight tremor passed through Shueh's body. "N-no, sir, not at all. What would make you ask that?"

Shang raised an eyebrow. "It was simply a perfunctory remark, Lieutenant. I shouldn't have thought that it would upset you so much."

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Mulan ventured out very slightly from behind Shang. As she'd thought; Shueh's gaze was on the ground. Mulan had seen that expression before: when he and Nau were fighting over whether they should address her as "sir" or "ma'am." After the slightest of hesitations, Shueh said resolutely, "The weather was clement, as is usual, this time of year."

That did it. Mulan had to interrupt. "Shang," she hissed as softly as she could.

Shang merely nodded to Shueh, his back tensing only slightly. "Anything else to report?"

Shueh shook his head. "No, sir."

Frustrated, Mulan reached up and tugged at the back of his shirt. Shang paid her no heed.

"Thank you. You're dismissed."

The lieutenant bowed once more and about-faced, speedily bringing his arms around in front of him as he turned his back. Mulan caught the barest glimpse of a bandaged hand before she found herself guided firmly outside by the shoulder.

"Mulan," Shang fumed, "what were you doing? You can't break up an official report just because you have something to—"

"He was_ lying_ to you, Shang!"

Shang let out a short breath, irritated. "You've never met the man before. How would you know if he were lying?"

"But I _have _met him before," Mulan protested. "He was one of the two soldiers assigned to my village. He helped me round up the bandits. He couldn't have been in Hong Lin. He was there in Yu-Wen the whole time!"

For a moment, Shang searched her face, as if wondering how far he could trust her knowledge. He soon straightened and his face resumed its commanding expression. "I'll check the reports and see if there's been a mistake. But Mulan, didn't you see his injury? He tried to hide it from us, but it looked like he was missing a thumb on his right hand. His _sword hand,_ Mulan. That would have rendered him useless in battle. Did he have that wound when you met him?"

Mulan shook her head.

"I thought not. Otherwise, you would have had to report a soldier being out of commission. That can only mean that he was in a skirmish _after_ you saw him. Besides, why would he lie when you were right there behind me?"

Mulan frowned. "He didn'tsee me. I'm so small, and kept quiet, not wanting to be in your way, especially with Mushu there. He thought he was only talking to you."

This time, Shang's whole face tensed. "Mulan, there is no _reason_—"

"Doesn't it occur to you that there is something very odd, very wrong happening here? If you would stop focusing on procedure and just _listen—_"

"Urgent news, General!"

They broke off their debate to be confronted with an even stranger event than the one they had just experienced.

* * *

A struggling soldier was using every twist to break free of the giant's grip. He was a better warrior than Chien-Po, and it was only the latter's resoluteness that kept him wriggling in the air like a landed fish.

"Arrest me, hang me, what do I care? She deserved it! They all should be run into the ground and their fields despoiled! Death to the Baos! Death to the—mmph!"

Chien-Po only shook his head as he muted the enraged soldier.

"No way," Mulan whispered in amazement. How could this be? It was none other than Lieutenant Nau!

"Yo' mouth is hangin' open like a—gaah!" came a small voice from behind her neck. Mulan swatted at Mushu impatiently.

"I wish I never had to say this, sir," Chien-Po said to Shang, his voice quieter than usual, "but there has been a murder." He set the soldier down and gave him a wide berth. "A young woman. I was helping her move her family's cart…" Chien Po's voice shook slightly.

It took something huge to unravel Chien Po's normally solid nerves, but Mulan could see how much the death had touched him. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. At the same time, she couldn't help but think, _What are Nau and Shueh really up to?_

Shang looked stricken, but then he pulled himself together and eyed the culprit with a look Mulan never wished to see on his face again.

Turning to Chien-Po to avoid this, she asked gently, "Who are these Baos that he hated so much?"

Chien-Po bowed his head. "A family, passing through. I think they were on their way to see you, General." He nodded at Shang, who looked taken aback. "I…I think…" he looked uncertainly at Mulan, who winced.

"They were going to pass the young woman off as me," Mulan finished for him. "That poor…" A thought struck her. "No. Oh, _no! _Chien-Po," and her grip tightened on his arm. "Did she say…did she give you her first name?"

_It can't be…I just talked to her!_ thought Mulan desperately. _If only her parents hadn't made her go…if only…_

"Bao Ssu," interrupted Nau unrepentantly, shifting his rumpled clothing back into place and dusting himself off. "And good riddance."

At once, the soldier sprang away, but Shang caught him first. His eyes were colder than steel.

"I thought you cared nothing for hanging or any other manner of death." Shang looked him dead in the eye. "If you will not obey laws or tradition or human compassion, _you will obey those words_."

Nau looked disgruntled, but no more. Mulan was appalled at his lack of empathy...if not for the woman he murdered than from himself. What could have happened to Nau to make him think that his life and Ssu's were so worthless?

On a hunch, Mulan touched Shang's arm. "Hold him for me, will you?" she said. "I want to look at this face."

For the first time, Nau seemed to notice her. For a split second, his mouth formed an O. Then he swore, which resulted in Shang wrenching his wrist rather harder than necessary to keep him in place.

"It's all right, Shang." Mulan bit her lip and examined Nau from head to toe. Last of all, she looked into his eyes. As her gaze trained on him, she felt a chill of unease and…odd as it may have seemed…alienation. It was as if she weren't looking at a human being at all, much less one she had seen bravely (if awkwardly) defending her village from marauders. It was as if his familiarity, his _humanity_, had been plucked right out of his heart.

"Hello, Nau. You've made some changes to the soul behind your eyes since we last met."

It was all she said, and yet as she spoke, Nau abruptly broke eye contact, looking almost frightened. _Ha, _thought Mulan, _hit a nerve there. I wonder if he really IS the same man. He seems so different! _

"Fa Mulan," Nau grated out a reply. "And what do you know about souls? You feel compassion for one whose family is a race of murdering thieves…"

"Then bring such deeds up in a tribunal, not in the streets." Mulan forced his chin up. "Look at me, Lieutenant. Who are you, really? Where did you put the boy soldier that came to me, asking for help? Was it an act? What happened to you and Shueh on the road to the Imperial City?"

By this time, Nau seemed to have recovered his courage. "Is there anything else you would like me _not _to tell you?"

"Yes," said Mulan decidedly, and this time she pinned him with a hard glance. "Where did your partner in crime, Shueh, run off to after he finished lying to General Li about his whereabouts?"

At this, Shang drew his attention off of his captive. "Please tell me you're joking."

Mulan looked pained. "This is Nau, all right. The other soldier that helped me at Yu-Wen. They were both kind, gentlemanly, and if I remember, not so very skilled with a sword. This man…whoever he is…looks exactly like him, but they're so different. It's the way he moves, the way he speaks. It's like he's an impersonation. A _bad_ one. And the more you squirm and shake when I say these things, Lieutenant, the more I am convinced I'm drawing near the truth."

Shang, who had obviously been watching this exchange closely, seemed to come to a quick conclusion. "Chien-Po, go to the stables. There's some rope there; tie him up and don't let him out of your sight. Yell at the first sign of trouble. Understood? I have to talk with Mulan for a moment."

For once, Chien-Po didn't obey an order. Shang's frown deepened, but when the giant simply asked, "And her body, General?" his expression softened.

"We'll take care of her, Chien-Po."

Chien-Po nodded and hauled Nau away.

* * *

Together, Mulan and Shang draped, then wrapped Bao Ssu in silk. Her family would tend to her during burial, but they both felt that, as Imperial soldiers, they were responsible for doing what they could to make amends.

It had been clean, at least. Her neck had been snapped. There was no doubt as to the culprit, either, and Shang took pains to assure the family that their beloved daughter would receive justice.

Mulan took pride in how carefully he was handling such a bad situation, but this momentary pleasure was severely dampened an instant later, when the family voiced their own reactions.

"She was not even married yet!" sobbed her mother. "She did not have the opportunity to do right by her family and bear a son!"

"No matter, dear," soothed the husband. "You know as well as I do that Bao Ssu would not have born _us_ any children. She was far too thin and small. We have a son at home; he'll continue our line."

The mother nodded sadly in agreement. All of a sudden, she squared her shoulders and pulled herself together. "That settles it. We should start looking over women for him, at once."

Shang looked unsure of whether or not to interrupt this outpouring of…grief…but he approached them tentatively. "Sir and Madam," he said respectfully, "if I may summon a few soldiers to carry her body to—"

"Oh, no, there's no need for that!" said the father brusquely. "Do you take me for a fool? You'll charge us for the service, I suppose. And all this for a childless woman? We're not nobility, you know. Come, wife. Let's leave before he tries to make us pay for the silk."

With that, the couple hitched up their horse and drove away, the small, shroud-wrapped figure half-forgotten in the back of the cart.

* * *

Shang stared after the bereft family, unable to speak for some time.

With a heavy sigh, he turned to Mulan.

"I think that's the last we'll see of them," he said contemptuously. "In fact, I hope it _is_. What did she ever to do deserve that treatment from her own relations?"

Mulan faced away from him. "What did she do, Shang? She was _born_."

"I don't under—"

"No, you wouldn't." Repentantly, she added, "Shang, I didn't mean to snap at you."

Shang came up beside her. "You're right, I don't." Firmly, "and you didn't snap."

She looked up at him. "I suppose you'll be shocked to consider that if I die in battle before I marry, the same things could have been said about _me_ that were just said about Bao Ssu?"

"Your family would never disregard you so callously." Shang tried not to show that he was, indeed, shocked. How could he have missed it?

"No, they wouldn't, but no one would blame them if they _did_." Briefly, Mulan paused, as if thinking. "Well, before I went to war, anyway. Apparently, not having the crest of the Emperor means Bao Ssu doesn't warrant any extra expense, in life or death."

Shang bent down to stare at her very directly. "Fortunately, there are some things under control. I decide what happens to our _dear friend_, Lieutenant Nau. And believe me, Mulan, if she had been a man, I would be no less lenient on the murderer."

For answer, Mulan held his hand tightly. Finally, a trace of a smile showed on her face. "And your verdict, General?"

He looked toward the stables ruefully. "We'll wait until after the interrogation."

"Mmm." She still wasn't letting go of his hand. Shang felt simultaneously content because she was so close and guilty for thinking of such things at a time like this.

"Could we really have two people impersonating Imperial soldiers?" Mulan wondered as they made their way back to his house. "It's the only explanation I can think of."

Shang gave her a sidelong glance, the closest to a smile he'd come since their time on the hill. "It's been known to happen, if you recall, _Ping_."

Mulan tried not to fidget. "Speaking as someone who knows, one would have to be foolhardy or have a lot to gain by such an act. And those two weren't even important!"

"But _you _are."

That got Mulan's attention.

As soon as he'd said it, Shang seemed to realize that it could be taken another way, and his face reddened. "I mean, they might be after you, considering that you're an important personage—"

"_Personage?_ Are they making statues and composing elegies to me?" Mulan teased. "In any case, they wouldn't go through all the trouble of impersonating someone and then throw all that disguise to the wind."

Shang had no answer to this, but an instant later, Mulan released his hand and reached behind her. "I've got an idea!"

Shang watched, bewildered, as she felt at her neck and the back of her shirt. "My guardian knew more than he let on when I told him about the bandits. Something to do with the spirit world. He was afraid to say anything, but now that it's come to this…Mushu! Mushu, what do you think?"

He wasn't there.

"Mushu? He was supposed to be hiding! Where'd he go?"

Mulan threw up her hands in frustration. "Great. Another dead end. What should I do about all this?" she wondered, half-aloud.

At this, Shang became concerned. _What should _she _do? _he repeated to himself. _Doesn't she trust me to help her decide the best manner of action? _He remembered their near-argument about Shueh…but surely such a minor squabble didn't mean she thought he had no faith in her. _Doesn't she know that I trust her above all others?_

To shake those thoughts, Shang caught the crook of Mulan's elbow and nodded towards the compound, in the direction of his family's temple.

"Any chance he might be in there?"

* * *

"I hope you'll forgive my despicable behavior," said Nau contritely, as he was carried towards the Li stables. "It's a bad habit. Don't worry; I won't make a fuss now that we're going inside."

This rapid change caused Chien-Po to quirk an eyebrow. "Do you actually expect me to believe that such a cold-hearted man would become polite with nothing to gain?"

"Mmm, a tad smarter than you look. Well, then, I _do_ have something to gain." As he was carted off over Chien-Po's shoulder, Nau dipped a hand inside a water trough.

Chien-Po set the criminal on his feet, but made sure to keep a firm hold on him.

"I'll sit, if you don't mind," said Nau. "What?" he asked, at Chien-Po's uneasy look. "Surely you don't think it would be easier to escape sitting down than standing up?"

"I sense that your spirit is disturbed," said Chien-Po steadily, "and I'm sure you're capable of doing things I don't want to think about right now."

"My spirit disturbed," said Nau with an ugly laugh. "Well done."

He made his legs collapse beneath him. Nau swiped the ground with his water-soaked hand, and as Chien-Po reached down to lift him, Nau raised his index finger and dotted the giant's forehead with a spot of mud.

Chien-Po's forehead wrinkled. "What in the world…?"

Without further ado, Chien-Po wrapped an arm around Nau's neck and held him in place. The giant didn't flinch. "Whatever you're trying to pull, you won't get away with it."

"Perish the thought," said Nau nastily. "Oh, dear, it started with your fingers."

Chien-Po was looking down at his hands in disbelief. With a glare at Nau, he tried to flex them, and to no avail. A call for help was next, but his voice was gone by the time he tried it.

"I was getting tired of being Nau, anyway. And best of all," Nau mused, "there's a bona fide reason to rid myself of the tracker. So, my large fellow soldier," he said in a voice growing higher and less hoarse, "you should find yourself becoming very tranquil shortly. Think of it as meditation. Becoming placid. Very…very…still."

The horses around him whinnied at the sight of Seven, alias Lieutenant Nau, becoming the identical twin of the giant clay man. Unfortunately, the clay Chien-Po still had him in a—

"Headlock!" groaned Seven despairingly as he tried in vain to extricate himself. Twist his neck however he might, he couldn't free his stolen body. His head was not much bigger than it had been as Nau, but the large clay soldier was as immoveable now as he had been in the flesh.

"Grrr…raaaahhh…gaah…curse his bones!"

He couldn't budge.

"Need a little help?" asked Two's voice from the hayloft.

Seven craned his neck as best he could and spotted his fellow spirit as he alighted, still in Shueh's body, from his hideaway. "If you say _one word _about this to Yumen Guan…"

Two laughed heartily. "Trust me, the memory alone will suffice."

He tugged on a rope and dragged forward the real Nau, who had returned to his old self as Seven possessed the body of Chien-Po. "It's not easy sneaking a clay body in here, but I gathered you needed him in this position."

"True. The man who's body I now hold would not have killed Nau, except in self-defense. And we need Nau's body for there to be no doubts." With that, Seven resumed his struggle to break free.

"Ow! Owowow—got it!" Seven felt like his ears had been scraped off, but he was free of the statue's tight hold. After a couple of minutes of massaging his sore neck, he straightened, got into a fighting position, and severed the ropes that bound the real Nau.

Chien-Po's sword swept free of its scabbard.

Predictably, the real Nau rushed right at Seven, determined to take at least one spirit to the ground.

Seven let Nau hit him several times, just to make it plausible. His old experience, coupled with his new strength, made him a formidable opponent. With an easy grace that belied his newfound bulk, Seven slid out of Nau's reach and casually ran him through.

"I wish the occasion hadn't arisen, General Li," said Seven in Chien-Po's voice as he watched Nau struggling for breath. "No, that's too articulate. General Li, I'm so sorry this had to happen—and in your stables, too! I tried to tie him up, but he had a knife hidden and cut the ropes!"

Two applauded. "A fine performance. And you get away scot-free with killing a descendent of the Baos."

Seven smirked. "Two, you may need to watch your rank."

Two rolled his eyes. "Believe what you wish. We'll leave that to Yumen Guan. Now, I have to cover my tracks before General Li discovers that someone else was in here. And we have to get rid of _that_." He waved an arm in the direction of the huge terra cotta figure. "It's scaring the horses witless."

True to his words, the horses were whinnying wildly, some trying to break out of their stalls. Among the stabled mounts was a large, black horse with green eyes, which actually started kicking to get free.

"No need to worry," said Two. "I came with a horse and cart…I had to drag Nau's statue around to get here, didn't I? Come. Leave it," he said, as Seven started to fiddle with Chien-Po's travel bag. "You'll have time to inspect his things later. General Li and Fa Mulan could come in here any minute."

Seven nodded and dropped the bag where he stood. Because of his haste, out rolled a carefully wrapped package, but he barely noticed it.

With a grunt, Seven left the bag in its place and began the process of helping Two hoist the statue onto the cart. With a smile, he thought, _I believe I am quite fond of this new strength._

* * *

"You guys felt it, too, didn't ya? _Didn't_ ya? Thunder God's on the warpath an' you know it!"

The apparition of Li Rei-pang daintily turned her face away from an indignant Mushu.

"What _is _this rabble?" the ancestor asked loftily. "I thought the temple was supposed to be kept neat. My son and grandsons have all kept this shrine in good working order."

"True that," Mushu said under his breath, glancing from one delicately cut tombstone to another and then at the elegant designs carving their way towards the perfectly shaped ceiling. "Bet there've never been chickens inside _this _one."

"Chickens! The very thought," chimed in the form of a wizened old man. "This is the first time I've seen a lizard in a temple of this quality!"

"LIZARD? Oh, that does it. Say one more word about my size, ya inflated pig bladders, and I'll—"

"Singe us?" giggled a high-pitched voice. "Hahaha! He thinks he can tangle with the likes of the…wait. Where am I? What am I? Heeeelp!"

"Pipe down, Wu Chang," said the old man authoritatively, using his staff to drive the addled spirit back into its place. "Master Li's mad great-uncle," he said apologetically to Mushu. "Pay him no mind. Now then. We were about to expel you from our presence, I believe."

Mushu folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, yeah?" he said, just a hint of smoke coming out of his nostrils. "You're the Great Ancestor, I'm guessin'. We'll, hear this, all you ole fogies…you keep stallin' for time and I'll make you wish there WAS lizards in this temple!"

Mushu leap-hopped onto one of the wooden carvings, and took in a deep breath, as if preparing to scorch it. He wouldn't really desecrate a temple, but they wouldn't know that.

Immediately, the ancestors dropped their pretenses of superiority and pleaded with him to spare their beloved shrine.

_Works every time, _Mushu thought to himself.

"All right, then," he said. "Cri-Kee? First order of business."

Cri-Kee nodded and took out a leaf and a small thorn.

"Everyone, you can't tell me you haven't felt the force behind all that bangin' and clangin' out there."

The Li ancestors went quiet.

What little light there was inside the temple dissipated as the clouds finally shed their torrents upon their estate. Blades of bluish white knifed through the sky outside, and wind drove itself, wailing, against the blossoming trees.

"A criminal has gone unpunished," said the Great Ancestor finally.

"Yeah, thanks, we already _know _that," said Mushu exasperatedly. "What Cri-Kee here and I wanna know is why Thunder God hasn't tracked him down and finished him already. I mean, the guy's slightly more than mortal, y'know? And I figured if I could alert Mulan to the culprits, then—"

"Tut tut," said a stodgy old woman with knotted hands. "Thunder God won't stay. Our ancestral temple is of high standing, but what use would he see in telling anything to the living? From his point of view, they mostly bungle everything. He'd be angry if we called out to him."

There was a murmur of agreement.

Mushu looked around the circle of old, closed faces.

"Did it ever occur to you that, if it weren't for my girl Mulan, there would _be _no eldest Li son?"

The Great Ancestor and Shang's grandmother looked at each other uncomfortably.

"Aaand," said Mushu, playing his final card, "if something happens to Mulan because she doesn't know what she needs to, Shang could be so grief-stricken that he might not marry. Ever."

"Not marry?" gasped several of the ancestors in fright.

"Heh heh heh," cackled Mushu gleefully to himself. Aloud, he said, "Yep. He's pretty fond of that girl."

"You lie! Lielielielie—" shrieked Wu Chang.

"_Do_ I?" said Mushu slyly. "Oh, lookie here. There they come, now." He slid out of sight…no sense in spoiling the romantic mood.

* * *

Mulan and Shang entered the temple at a run, just ahead of the thunder and lightning. Their clothes were only rain-spattered, not soaked, much to Mushu's chagrin. (Then they might have been persuaded to cuddle up "to stay warm"—though if it had progressed to "you should take off those wet clothes before you catch cold," Mushu might have intervened.) To his delight, they were holding hands. Yes, indeed, all was going according to plan.

Mulan turned her head this way and that, squinting in the dim light. Shang let go of her hand to begin a search.

"MUSHU!" she called. "Come out. We need to talk to you."

Mushu crept further behind the Great Ancestor's stone and pricked up his ears.

"Was that a flash of red?" Shang asked suddenly, and the guardian slapped his forehead as he realized his tail had been sticking out. Gathering it to his side and hopping to the next tombstone in a very undignified manner, Mushu tried to ignore the Li ancestors, who seemed to have overcome their serious exteriors to snigger at him.

Several ungainly moments later, the dragon heard Shang's voice again.

"You know, he may not even be in here. He's so small…he could be back at the house in an empty shoe, for all we know."

"Actually, that's what my pet cricket does," said Mulan merrily. Sobering rapidly, she added, "I was really hoping he would clue us in. We have next to no evidence of any sort of…conspiracy, if that's what you want to call it."

"From where I'm standing, that's still more than enough for me to refuse any more requests for aid, should bandits attack in the area," said Shang. "We have so few soldiers to spare already…it would not be unusual for a man in my position to assign our forces to more vital outposts. For now, I need to focus on interrogating Nau. Although after what I've seen today, it might be better managed in your hands than in mine."

"Oh." It was such a small syllable, but Mushu knew that she was quite pleased with the compliment. "I guess I kind of took control there, huh?"

"You were right to do so," Shang said formally, but with a touch of affection. "You were the officer in charge of the mission at Yu-Wen; therefore, he was your prerogative."

"Hmm." Mulan was smiling; Mushu was sure of it.

_That's right, keep it comin'_, he cajoled them. _Now, if Shang would just lean forward, look deeply into her eyes and say—_

"Speaking of which, what were your orders to Shueh and Nau when you left them in charge at Yu-Wen?"

_Uh-oh._

"…Orders?" said Mulan tentatively.

"What did you tell them to do after you had rounded up the Men of Mist?" repeated Shang patiently.

"Well, I sort of…left them there, I guess."

There was a stunned silence.

"Left them…as in left them to pursue the fugitive?" asked Shang hopefully.

Mulan was surely conjuring up a nice white lie…it was her word against a known murderer's, and no one would know…

Oh, wait. That was what _he _would do.

"I went home, Shang."

Fearfully, Mushu inched his head over the top of the headstone.

If a battering ram had slammed into him, Shang could not have looked any more aghast.

Mulan had definitely noticed, because she stuttered, "I…I mean, I had done what was needed, seeing as how the bandits were caught—"

"Are you out of your mind? You're telling me that you took complete responsibility for the bandit problem in Yu-Wen and then _left those two_ to their own devices once the criminals were captured?"

"N-no," Mulan forced herself to say.

"Oh," said Shang, relieved.

"I only helped finish off the leader and discover the hideout. I figured…they could…take it from there?"

Pause.

_"WHAT?!" _

Her hackles raised, Mulan raised her own voice. "Shang, you weren't there! I had to let them take the credit! If the villagers thought I had anything to do with it, they would have done their best to set those men free! I tried tying up a bandit in plain sight beforehand, and one of the townsfolk cut him loose!"

"Then you should have shouted at him to obey the instructions of an Imperial soldier and corralled those Men of Mist with whatever force necessary," Shang growled.

"But they would have—"

"Mulan, I'm not going to repeat this again. _You_ put yourself in charge of that mission. _You_ told me you were capable of handling it. Fa Mulan, you are not a vigilante. You can't take command and then back out when it suits your purposes, no matter how uncomfortable the assignment is. You are a soldier in the Imperial service, and what you did comes very close to dereliction of duty."

At this, Mulan fell silent and hung her head. Mushu had half a mind to singe below the belt as he had threatened, but he could also see that the man had a point.

Shang now began pacing the impeccably-swept temple floor, trying to control his temper.

"We have another problem, then," he said quietly. "These two soldiers somehow ended up here, one lying to me, the other committing this terrible crime. Now, I must report that they had _no official orders_ for three weeks. For heaven's sake, you didn't even tell them they had permission to leave the village! Do you have any idea how that looks?"

Shang resumed his pacing. "If I tell my superiors exactly what happened, they may not let you back into the army again, mostly because you're a woman—unfortunately for you, every mistake counts double. But their short-sightedness would cost us dearly: you've been an invaluable help already, and without being asked. The army needs you. China needs you."

He closed his eyes, thinking hard. "There's nothing else to be done. I'll take the blame on myself."

Now, it was Mulan's turn to look horrified.

"No, Shang, that isn't right! I'll never let you—"

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Shang snapped. "I am _telling_ you, soldier, what will and will not happen. Understood?"

For an instant, it looked like Mulan was going to object, even shout at him. Then she looked again at the expression on Shang's face. Mulan only let out a frustrated sound and turned away in defeat.

"I'm going back inside."

Shang raised an eyebrow. "Mulan, don't be silly. It's a deluge out there; you'll be up to your knees in mud."

"Well, I'm sorry I won't be able to pass inspection!" she retorted.

"No, wait…wait…_Mulan_…"

With clenched fists, Mulan stalked out of the shrine.

* * *

Shang's commanding presence wilted once she had gone. He sank to one knee and rested his head on his arm.

Li Shang was a demanding leader. From the looks of things, though, the general was far harder on himself than he had been on Mulan.

"Man, that went about as well as Fa Dang's military campaign," said Mushu despairingly. "Now they'll _never_ tell us what we need to know!"

Cri-Kee patted Mushu's shoulder in sympathy.

"Happy now?" the dragon snarled back up at the ancestors, expecting them to be howling with laughter.

Instead, the Li family was looking at its descendant thoughtfully.

"See the way he wishes to go after her," said another ancestor softly. This one was unexpectedly young—she had probably died in childbirth. "He has never been as despondent as this, short of mourning his father's death."

As if to confirm their thoughts, Shang ran a hand across his forehead. He kept glancing at Mulan's retreating back, as if willing her to return to him.

"Ancestors," he muttered. "Why can't I do anything right with her?"

By now, the ancestors were shifting nervously around the temple.

Shang folded his arms across his chest and stared bemusedly at the headstones. "I'm not one for asking favors," he said gruffly. Then his voice altered. "You must know I want to marry her. You also know that I have to be tough on her, tougher than on anyone else under my command. Her beauty, intelligence and bravery make her a target as much as a hero. You _know_ that. I'd beg you to open her heart to me, but right now, I'll settle for one conversation where we don't fight. Um…please," he added, as if the word were a foreign one.

One by one, the ancestors looked at the newest headstone to their number.

"Huo, wake him up, will you?" pleaded Shang's grandmother. "He will decide for us."

Gently, as if afraid of disturbing its inhabitant, the Great Ancestor tapped the top of the stone. The Li family guardians, apparently, had never been demoted to gong-ringers.

Sleepily at first, then with ever-increasing energy, tendrils of mist began to curl and spiral upwards, culminating in the appearance of the late General Li.

The erstwhile general yawned and stretched. "Is there a crisis already?" he said. "I thought you said the Huns were defeat—" He looked down at the form of his son. "Ah, I see. Oh, dear."

"I know it's a problem we didn't expect to face with this one," began Rei-pang.

Shang's father shook his head. "On the contrary. Cynical about the court women as he might have been, Shang was bound to fall head over heels one of these days. I always suspected…he just had to find the right one. And it's Fa Zhou's daughter, is it not?" The other ancestors nodded. "Good for him. And a pity if it doesn't come to fruition."

Out of habit, General Li began to straighten his uniform, as if readying himself for business. "Now, then. I assume I was called for a reason?"

In a whir of celestial whispering, the ancestors convened around General Li, explaining the situation and adding their input. When five minutes had passed, they retreated to their respective tombstones, somber and straitlaced once more.

The great ancestor gave a decided nod. "We shall brave Thunder God's anger," he said as if passing a decree. "We are the Li family, and we look out for our own."

As a great gust of wind rattled the incense burners, the Great Ancestor took off for the skies, becoming one with the wild wind until he was completely invisible.

Shang had finished praying and was just about to rise when a flash of lightning struck the temple. Shang looked up in alarm, but curiously, the lightning did not seem to have damaged a thing. There were only the quiet graves, and each embellishment was firmly in place.

All of a sudden, Mushu found himself being swung up in the air by his tail.

"Hey. Hey, watch it! It stretches too far and it'll snap back! Aaah!"

"Breathe out, little Guardian," said the Great Ancestor. "This is all that Thunder God will permit us to say."

To Shang's great amazement, Mushu swirled around in midair by an invisible hand, drawing three phrases in tongues of fire.

**Khan.**

**Yumen Guan.**

**Festival of Ghosts.**

* * *

"Are you sure the first word was 'Khan'?" said Mulan a little later on, looking at Shang strangely. They had put their differences aside for now, or at least pretended to forget what had just happened between them.

"Yes," Shang said stiffly. "Perhaps this Yumen Guan is the Khan of someplace."

"Um, I have an easier explanation, but you're not going to like it."

Mulan led the way to the stables, Mushu once again in tow. There, she met Chien-Po, who explained about how Nau had forced a confrontation between them.

"I'm not surprised," said Shang bluntly. "It's lucky you were able to take him out before he could harm you. Besides, Lieutenant Shueh is still missing. If only he weren't a tracker, we could follow his trail and have him in a matter of days."

"I am sorry to have failed," said the downcast giant.

Mulan gave him a one-armed hug, but as this seemed to irritate Shang, she cut the gesture short. They both agreed that Chien-Po should be sent to the Imperial City with the news. Shang gave instructions to him in a low voice that Mulan didn't quite catch, and then offered the soldier a choice of any of the fine steeds in his stables. Chien-Po thanked him profusely and, to their shock, mounted up like he had been raised in the saddle and rode off with superb equestrian skill.

"Who knew?" Mulan said as they both gazed after him.

To alleviate the tension which sprung up with every awkward pause, Mulan quickly explained to Shang that Khan was above the average intelligence as far as animals were concerned.

"I'm pretty sure the message 'Khan' refers to him."

"Your…horse," was all Shang said. He looked like he was trying not to smirk.

"Hey, I see that skepticism, Li Shang!" Mushu butted in, jumping onto his shoulder and waving a claw in his face. "You just watch!"

"Am I going to regret this?" was Shang's only comment.

Mulan watched as Mushu traveled from Shang to Khan's back in a heartbeat, where he listened carefully to what the startled horse had to say.

"Uh, you're not going to believe this," Mushu said when he was done. "But here goes..." and he translated each nicker and neigh, exactly as he had heard it. Apparently, Khan saw much more than he ever let on to Mulan.

"Restless souls? _That's _our problem?" said Mulan, shivering at the thought. "Well, part of the problem. They wouldn't be able to do all this by themselves. Turning men into clay and taking their forms? This is the doing of Yumen Guan, whoever he is. It sounds like he's planning an invasion, taking over soldiers like this, and using wandering spirits to do it. Shang," said Mulan, becoming determined, "We need to get to him before his plan hatches. Lop of the head of the dragon, not the tail. No offense, Mushu."

"Ah, none taken. My natural modesty stands me in good stead," Mushu put in as he made his way to the water trough to examine his reflection.

"I agree, Mulan," said Shang. "I also wish I had known all this _before _I sent the impostor Chien-Po off on the fastest horse we have."

Mulan groaned. "We'll never catch him!"

"He has to report to us sometime. I'll have him watched," said Shang. "There's nothing more that can be done. No one will believe us without proof. If we try to attack him, the spirit may leave, or worse, harm Chien-Po."

Mulan looked worried. "Chien-Po will be all right, won't he?"

"As long as they need his body, he'll be fine," Shang assured her. "But if it comes to that, the men I'll have guarding him will step in. I'll question them thoroughly, to make sure they have no part in this."

"In the meantime, I have to be heading home," Mulan lamented. "What a day!"

She leaned against the doorjamb, avoiding Shang's gaze.

There was silence between them, and then he replied.

"It could have gone better."

Mulan stared at him, and it was his turn to evade her eyes.

"Please don't take the fall for me," she burst out. "I'll manage fine; I'm still in the Emperor's good graces. I really didn't mean to breach the chain of command like that. I've become used to acting on my own, because of the ideas that come to me. I guess I never stopped and thought about how that would change when I became the leader."

"Being in charge _is_ a constant test of strength," Shang answered. He chanced the slightest smile in her direction. "Believe me."

"Oh, I do. And I'm sorr—"

Shang held up a hand. "No need. Really. You've had no officer training and were only under the Imperial command structure for a short while before being thrust into the heat of battle. It's only natural that there will be a few, shall we say, knots in your rise up the ranks." Now he faced her fully. "That said, if you ever do something that irresponsible again, I'll demote you myself. If you _will _command, you have to do it right."

"Yes, sir."

On impulse, Mulan held out her hand. Shang clasped her forearm and they searched each other's eyes for a long moment until, finally, Mulan gave his arm a rough tug and hugged him hard. Shang drew one arm across her shoulders, even as he held her hand tightly with the other. And, though she was sure she had imagined it afterwards, it felt like he had oh-so-softly pressed a kiss to her hair.

"GENERAL! General Li; I must speak with you about our military rations!"

This was said in a soldier's brusque tone, emanating from just beyond the stable doors.

Like lightning, Mulan moved out of the embrace.

"Don't tell me," said Shang dryly as he let her go. "Urgent news."

* * *

Later, after Mulan had departed, Tang went into the stables to choose a new horse. He had intended to ride the one that Chien-Po had chosen. Ah, well. It couldn't be helped.

Before he had been "assigned" to guard duty in keeping the harridans away from his older brother, Tang had been feverishly studying for the civil service exams. Although fairly skilled in martial arts, Tang's bent lay towards scholarship, or to be more precise, politics. After hearing what Chi Fu had put Shang through during his first campaign, Tang couldn't blame his brother for disdaining the profession, but he was ambitious to get into the higher political circles…perhaps even the Emperor's council.

Of course, if Tang wanted to look for intrigue, he was convinced that he need not stray far from home. With that Mulan girl and her guardian—doubtless an imaginary one—making designs that his brother didn't even notice, much less repulse, Tang felt a bit guilty for leaving. Had he stayed, he believed he would have his work cut out for him. Oh, she was slyer than most. She hid her thoughts well, and was ever careful to seem proper and polite.

In Tang's mind, that made her all the more dangerous. He didn't sincerely believe that a woman could see past the trappings that Shang came in: general, eldest son, war hero, and so on. Although he didn't show it, Tang was concerned over the effect that their father's death had had on Shang. If he were to become enamored of that trickster and then learn that she was just like all the others…well, Tang didn't want to think about what would happen.

"Can't even clean up after herself," muttered Tang as he spotted what looked like a small white package that had fallen between the two empty stalls. It was hard enough to locate even in daylight, but Tang's eyes were sharp. "What is that, anyway?"

Puzzled, he unraveled the coarse cloth and held up what looked like a perfect replica of a thumb, from cuticle to fingerprint.

A smile formed on Tang's face. "This is weird. Unsettling, too. Perfect!"

At last: he had something to tease her about. It was a pity that he had to leave so quickly, but the exams were calling, and he couldn't delay.

"My brother has such odd taste in females," said Tang despairingly as he put the saddle on. Shy glances, high kicks, and ceramic thumbs in her saddlebags. What a peculiar woman!

* * *


	7. East of Xi'an

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan _or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

Chapter Seven: East of Xi'an

"Your Excellency!"

Chi Fu skittered into the huge throne room and held in one hand a long, fast-unraveling scroll. He nearly tripped on his robes in his haste to make it up the imposing steps to his seat beside the Emperor. Oh, he had always known he had a wonderful job, but on days like this it was truly invigorating.

"I have here our new list of the direst occurrences in our kingdom!" Chi Fu said, grinning as if he'd announced the opening of a new silk route. "You see, here?" He held up the extensive list, the bottom of which rolled halfway down the steps before it rested uncertainly on the crimson carpet. "For one thing, the tribute from Canton province has decreased by a total of three ounces of silver! Can you imagine? And, this, look at this!" With a flourish, he underlined the next item. "The dyemaker said that the Imperial yellow silk may be a shade off this month! Shall I have him exiled, or should he simply be fined?"

Throughout this barrage of information, the Emperor sat, hands steepled, features expressing benign disinterest. There was no one like Chi Fu for transmitting information to the head of state; however, the counsel himself was often as not totally ignorant of what was of any significance in the extensively long list.

"Third on the list is the debate on how many grains of rice should be placed in Your Excellency's bowl every morning. That cad, Chan Du, thought he could get away with four hundred fifty! I ask you!"

The Emperor merely stroked his moustache.

Seeing that this had had no effect on the ruler, Chi Fu shook the scroll a little more. The expensive paper traveled the rest of the way down the steps in a series of inelegant bumps.

"Let's see, here. Ah, of course! How could I have been so silly? We have forgotten this month's tax discrepancies! Also, oh, no, let's skip over the silly soldier's report and go right to the salary of the gong-ringers—"

"For the sake of doing something completely different, let us ignore the matters you have so delicately highlighted and go straight to the dull soldier's report," the Emperor pronounced. The Emperor never actually _interrupted;_ he had the sort of vocal command suggesting that the conversation had been his all along, though he had never said a word.

Momentarily flummoxed, Chi Fu's whiskers drooped. "Y-yes, I suppose we could sort through the unimportant matters first, merely to get them out of the way. Well, this report comes from a foot soldier of little renown—"

"His name, Chi Fu?" the Emperor said, once again not interrupting.

"Er…Chien-Po. You know: that big fellow whom Your Majesty saw dressing up as a concubine. Anyway, he says that there have been some reports of bandit activity, but that the upstar—that, pardon me, the new General Li has avoided sending in more troops."

The Emperor went so far as to raise a single eyebrow. "A most unusual maneuver from him. I would have thought Li Shang would stop at nothing to keep my people safe."

"Oh, those people are no one important, just a few outlying villages…Hong Lin, Yu-Wen..."

"The village of Fa Mulan?" The Emperor peered more carefully at the report. "Now, I know that he would not have avoided her village on purpose." After thinking the matter over for a brief moment, he said, "Chi Fu, fetch me the report Chien-Po delivered."

"But…uh…yes, right away, Your Majesty," Chi Fu simpered, frantically trying to re-roll the scroll before the Emperor's patience wore thin.

Once in possession of the report (carefully sealed, as all such reports were), the Emperor found something even more interesting. This notice was not from Chien-Po, but the General himself, saying that a soldier named Nau had murdered a woman named Bao Ssu and that his fellow soldier, Shueh, was not to be trusted. Possibly, Shang had suggested, there might have been some sort of feud between the families of Nau and Bao, and it might be worth investigating. They were the Baos, the general had added, that lived several miles east of Xi'an. He concluded with an admission that the ringleader of the bandits at Yu-Wen had escaped and that the two soldiers of questionable conduct had, through his own lack of foresight, failed to receive orders for the appropriate amount of time.

"A-HA!" exclaimed Chi-Fu triumphantly. "He is not so competent as he would have you believe, Excellency!"

At that, the Emperor stopped reading. He closed his eyes, remembering far back when he had been taught about the sacrilege committed by the Baos. He had not expected an attack of this nature, and to add to it all, Shang also hinted at the curious weather patterns surrounding the whole mystery. The general was not, by default, a superstitious man, and the Emperor was sure that he left out more than he was comfortable mentioning.

He was prodded back to reality by Chi Fu's whining about the lassitude as far as military control was concerned, and how the Emperor's entire council would be sure to take measures.

The Emperor frowned. "I think that, at this point, a simple reprimand would suffice. He is young and still learning, and though I had not expected him to make a mistake like this, I am glad that he had the fortitude to admit it. Chi Fu! It is time that someone uncovered the whole story behind this. Scratch the reprimand and instead send the General and…yes, it should be…Fa Mulan approximately twenty miles east of the capital, to the Baos' ancestral land. Or as ancestral as it can be," he said to himself. Aloud, "Their orders are to fill in the gaps in our knowledge of what has occurred. In the meantime, I shall take care to watch Lieutenant Shueh."

"Then…you are appointing a new general and relieving that brat of his duty?" Chi Fu couldn't believe his ears.

"Oh, no, Chi Fu," said the Emperor, allowing himself the tiniest of smiles. "Rather, tell him that I understand he might be stressed and this may be considered a…leave of absence."

"_Someone_ will have to file and receive military reports in his absence, Excellency," Chi Fu suggested with all the subtlety of a stampeding elephant.

The Emperor eyed the counsel with a sidelong look. "Indeed."

"Someone with experience in such matters..."

"Precisely."

"Someone with a full command of himself and others!"

"I could not have said it better myself."

Practically jumping with glee, Chi Fu let out an excited giggle. "Oh! Your Excellency, I will be so delighted to—"

The Emperor calmly did _not _interrupt Chi Fu for the third time that day. "You will be delighted to welcome back an old general who has asked to come out of retirement in light of our recent dearth of soldiers."

The counsel swallowed his words of self-congratulation, and these seemed to give him some abdominal discomfort on the way down.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry that I read ahead to the very bottom of the list," said the Emperor composedly. "Marshal Guo wants to resume serving me. I'll have him reinstated as soon as may be. Ah, but I forget: these are the obviously _trifling_ matters of state, mere footnotes in a long list of worthy announcements." There was a twinkle in his eyes. "How many grains of rice in my breakfast bowl, again?"

* * *

Mulan's and Shang's horses were neck and neck as they raced headlong out of the city, on the east road towards Luoyang. It was a wonderful ride, at least now. In the Imperial city, as soon as word had gotten out that Mulan was riding through, a colorful throng had begun to press in on them, cutting off their retreat and nearly doing the same to their advance. It was only by picking their way carefully that they could escape.

There had been many cheers, a few boos and hisses, and even one or two crude propositions, but above all the crowd had been curious. It was full of what it was sure it knew about Fa Mulan; for the present, though, it was content to look. Later, it would judge.

Mulan wished at first that Mushu had come with them, but he said that he had business with the family temple—namely, convincing the Great Ancestor that he should continue on and not be tossed back out for consorting with the Li ancestors. Mulan missed him, but she knew she could never have stomached the amount of teasing she would have gotten from him for her delight at being on a mission with Shang.

That they were riding together had been inescapable; it was the Emperor's express order, albeit one that had Granny kissing the paper it was written on. This had both led to some excited whispers about their relationship and some inevitable confrontations when they stopped for a repast.

It wasn't even a particularly fancy or even welcoming restaurant that had given them trouble. Mulan and Shang had discovered that high-born women and girls had followed them in, anyway. They'd stood just inside or just outside the doorway, forming two forbidding rows of embroidered fans. Mulan had turned away from the eyes on her (as she'd thought), but then she had seen Shang's panicked countenance.

"Not here, too!" he had said through clenched teeth. "Mulan, don't say anything to them."

They hadn't been looking at her, after all. They'd been looking at _him_.

Mulan had prodded him gently with her eyes. "Come on, your mother will be so pleased."

He opened his mouth indignantly, but then closed it again. To her surprise, a wry chuckle escaped him. "I think I'll invite her wrath this time, if it means not being trapped into marrying one of them."

"Trapped?" Mulan's brow wrinkled.

Shang had given a frustrated shake of his head. "Some women will try to catch men of high station alone and claim that they were in a, shall we say, compromising situation…just so they can compel him to marry them. It would only work on a man of honor, but…"

Mulan had given him her best smile. "But you are."

Face flushed, he had nodded.

Now, though, it was as Mulan felt it ought always to be. Khan was giving her a smooth, easy ride, although the road got rougher the farther they got from the Imperial City. Remembering the events of the last place they had eaten together, Shang suggested riding the whole twenty miles before another rest stop. As a result, Mulan was hungry, but was also grateful to be free of the stifling atmosphere of the city. Mulan was a country girl at heart.

The clouds tangled and furled overhead, but the sunshine still broke through, lighting up high, unbroken hills to the south and stands of trees perching on them. The land lay flat and gold along the river, which was unusually high for early summer. As for the wind, it moved with them, coursing through the small fields that graced the riverbanks and heading up the hills with a hollow whistle.

Mulan let out a sigh of contentment as she slowed Khan to a walk. Shang also slowed his horse and looked at her fondly.

"Not tired, are we? It's not far."

"Far…to where?" Mulan had been busy with her own thoughts, fretting about her decision to leave Shueh and Nau unsupervised in her village. Not to mention, surreptitious thoughts of Shang that kept sneaking in whenever they could. "What, exactly, are we supposed to be looking for?"

"Golden Eyes Inn," said Shang confidently. "I've been there before as a teenager...not the most accommodating place, mind you…but it's rife with old gossips. You'll see. We probably won't even need to bribe our way for information."

"They might ask for coins, anyway," Mulan pointed out. "Especially when they see how finely-made your clothes are." They had both donned civilian attire for this mission (though keeping their armor on hand), but although Shang had no exaggerated richness about him, the very quality of his garments gave him away. He was dressed in dark blue silk, with a black sash and gray leggings.

Mulan was just kicking herself for wishing that Shang didn't look so incredible today, when she caught him saying, "Not that it matters," under his breath.

When he saw that she had caught him, he hastily explained, "I—I mean, it's not as if they're going to be staring at _me _out here."

"Shang, no one knows who I am in these parts!"

"Me, neither. Which means, you'll attract more attention than I will." When Mulan asked what he meant, Shang simply sped up his pace and refused to answer.

* * *

To her infinite consternation, Shang was _right. _Oh, it wasn't that Shang didn't get…looks…from many of the ladies he came across, but they didn't go out of their way to bother him. Luckily, they reached the inn before dark, and steadfastly ignored the innkeeper's surprise when they requested separate rooms.

Truth be told, the atmosphere agreed with Mulan. There was something foreign about the sallow old wood and the crusty patrons, but the atmosphere was neither too lively nor unwelcoming.

At least, for a little while.

Shang insisted on ordering the food and drink and paying for it himself, though he endured a heated argument before Mulan conceded. In the meantime, she sat at the least wobbly table she could find, feeling only a little out of place. It was not long before a tall, wiry man with friendly brown eyes asked if she needed his assistance.

"Yes, thank you," said Mulan politely. "I'm wondering if you could aid me in locating the Baos' ancestral land."

At this, the man's eyes widened slightly, and he cocked his head a bit to the right.

"Not an unusual request in these parts," he said, and then smiled winningly. "Of course, it all depends on who asks."

Mulan decided she'd better be firm with this one. "_I_ ask," she said. "And my purse, too, if that's what you require."

"Oh, no, dear lady." The man feigned hurt pride, as though the suggestion had wounded him. "The pleasure is entirely mine. Allow me to fill such a precious porcelain vase with my fountain of knowledge," he said.

This time, Mulan eyed him like a mother about to scold a reckless child.

"Not even one of the three, as far as I'm concerned," she said testily. "Now, are you going to be helpful or not?"

"I shall indeed, if you will favor me with a smile," said the man, and to Mulan's horror, he began to wax poetical. "I would love only to touch your pale skin. Your presence completes my lonely life, and my…my…"

His voice lowered, his eyes bulged, and sweat started pouring off of him. "Nice knowing you!" he managed before dashing away at breakneck speed.

Mulan's eyebrows drew together in confusion. It was then that she felt a presence behind her.

Shang had returned sooner than she had expected. His posture was rigid and imposing, and his eyes pierced the man's mental armor with a solid spear-point of anger. The displeasure and scorn hardening his features was so pronounced that Mulan was infinitely glad that he wasn't staring at her.

_I thought I'd seen him angry before. Guess not,_ Mulan thought nervously as Shang, with only a look, sent the other man scurrying to the far side of the room.

"I didn't mean anything by it!" he squeaked to the general.

Shang merely folded his arms across his chest.

"It was a mistake! I…I thought she was someone else! In fact, it wasn't even me you saw! It was my identical twin!"

This didn't seem to pacify Shang.

Mulan felt that it was time to intervene. "Shang," she said warmly, "I'm hungry. Was there anything here to your liking?"

Shang broke eye contact with the other man for the first time.

"The pork is good this evening," he acknowledged, the anger vanishing from his face as he looked her way. "With the exception of some of the patrons, this is a useful establishment."

Letting out a yelp, the man took advantage of Shang's back being turned to bolt from the tavern. Mulan couldn't help but laugh.

"Li Shang, what in the Middle Kingdom was that all about?" She nudged him. "He was a flirt, but harmless. He wasn't even lewd about it."

Shang rolled his eyes. "Only because he knew what he could and couldn't get away with."

"You know, you could make a fortune as a bodyguard for rich young ladies," Mulan teased him. "You could protect them from all the dissolute men in the world."

Shang pointed out, "If they were rich young ladies, _I _would be the one needing the bodyguard!"

Mulan muffled her laughter in her hand. "I'll protect you to the last, my captain," she said with mock solemnity.

Shang stared hard at her. His voice was rough, and his eyes…Mulan didn't know what to make of that look. "I may call in that debt someday, Fa Mulan," was all he said.

* * *

That night, Mulan recalled that look with unease. What it might have meant was both stirring and unsettling. Mulan was prepared to accept Mushu's suggestion that Shang had simply not heard her when she told him she cared about him as lightning did for thunder. Therein lay the double edged sword. If Shang truly had no romantic feelings for her, she would have to part from him, let him go and marry whatever woman was blessed enough to have him for a husband. She would have to stand by, watch her heart break, and worst of all, never say a word about it. To do so might very well demolish the foundation of their friendship, and make it impossible for them to be easy in another's company ever again. He might even start thinking of her as another girl knocking at his door. That, she certainly wanted to avoid.

And if that look were what she thought it was?

Now, Mulan had a good idea of what might happen if she spent her life with Shang and not with her birth family…

_"The Baos are newcomers to the land," said a middle-aged man that afternoon. He thumped the table in invitation for them to join him. "The former keepers of the land—they were called Guan—left no descendants."_

_Mulan and Shang exchanged significant glances at that statement. Guan! So "Yumen Guan" was a nickname for a dispossessed member of that family! At least now, they had found out why Yumen Guan might be bitter._

_"Oh, that's nothing," said their informant, quite satisfied with the looks of astonishment on their faces. "You see, that family was once one of the most powerful in China. Around the time of the reign of Qin, the old family was even instructed to guard the emperor's burial site. But the years brought new disagreements and new dynasties surged up, while their influence and their family line dwindled. At last, there was no heir of the Guan family. No one to light the temple incense. Because the line withered, there was no one to pass the land onto, and the Baos came and took it, every seedling and tree that could be seen. Then they tore down the old temple and built their ancestral shrine instead. All of those souls…" he shook his head, and firmly downed another dose of his drink. "Word is, the Baos wanted to persuade the last Guan to tell them the place of the emperor's burial, but that the secret went with the old family to the grave. Mark my words, though, one day Thunder God will exact punishment and the land of Guan will be revenged for the sacrilege of the Baos."_

_"Sacrilege?" Mulan had asked, startled. "Well, I suppose knocking down headstones would be such a terrible act…"_

_"No, no, little girl," said the man impatiently, earning a glare from Shang. "Knock them down, tuh. The Baos tossed them down a _well_. Just east of here, you can see it. So, how about that money, eh?"_

"Will that really be it?"Mulan wondered aloud_. "_Is that what will happen to my family? And Mushu? Will he still…survive if that happens?"

Mulan was sure that if she thought hard enough, she could come up with an idea. One that didn't involve the earth of Fa being revenged upon whoever took the land. (Perhaps it would be Huang Lo?) But even the Guans hadn't been able to find a way out, and they had been trusted with guarding the Emperor's burial chamber!

Mulan shuddered.

She hadn't told Shang anything about this. It would only put more needless stress on what had to be an increasingly large burden on his shoulders. No, this concerned only her and her family. Not noticing throughout the man's narrative that Shang _had _been paying very close attention to her, Mulan had left her place at the table not long after the tale had finished and had gone into her room to reflect.

* * *

Two had been busy rising up the Imperial ranks. His "promotion" consisted of possessing Captain Wan and then doing away with Shueh, and if it wasn't the most honest way of getting elevated, he felt that it was both pleasing and worth his time. Now, no light of suspicion would be cast on him as he rode to meet his master at their new rendezvous—too much rain in one spot wouldn't do as far as raising suspicions was concerned.

Halfway there, Two was thrown from his horse by a gust of wind so strong he was surprised it didn't tear him limb from limb.

"Get lost," muttered Two as he sought to do something with the sprawling position his body had taken on.

If he thought that bravado would help him against the divine force now rocking the very trees with his wrath, Two was sadly mistaken. It was too late to turn back now, however, and the thought that Thunder God did not kill him instantly gave Two a bit of confidence.

"Want something, do you?" he said, picking himself up and brushing himself off with as much unconcern as he could muster.

"False trail?" boomed Thunder God. "You thought those mortal trackers would lay a false trail and that would keep me away? Face justice now, and spare yourself much pain."

Two laughed hollowly. "Feeling pain is better than feeling nothing," he said. "I couldn't find my way home," he said, defensively. "It's not my fault I was wandering!"

Thunder God shouldered his hammer and eyed Two piercingly. "What you did afterward…that _was _your fault. You have gone unpunished FOR NOW because you have the bodies of innocent people, and I can't touch you without harming them. My wife struck that bandit who raided Yu-Wen, and I _will_ catch you out one day, soon. You and Yumen Guan and that other beast who killed that young woman. You are hereby charged with killing Shueh Wen so that he wouldn't be recognized _and _with taking this form instead."

Anger helped Two stay upright, even as he heard the rumbling begin in the sky.

"If you can't harm me, why let me know?" Two spat, daring to look Thunder God in the eye.

The return glance was so mighty it sent Two running.

"A criminal," said Thunder God, "must always have charges brought against him before sentencing begins."

* * *

The mellow light of late afternoon crept over the walls as Mulan paced the floor. She expected Shang to knock at her door soon, and when he did, she was torn between wanting to be alone and needing to talk with him.

"I guess now we know why Thunder God is angry," said Shang, satisfied at the outcome of their visit. "Remember what that man said? Thunder God must be mad at the Baos for forsaking their honor and desecrating the Guan tombstones. So I think he's given Yumen Guan supernatural powers to punish them."

Mulan shook her head. "That's what I thought, too," she said. "But that's not what happened."

Shang looked at her closely. "Really?"

Mulan sighed. "Shang, the Baos did forsake their honor, and I'll bet Thunder God _did _give the power of changing bodies to Yumen Guan and his cronies. He's the only one with a motive to do something like that. But that's where it _should _have ended, and it _didn't. _First of all, Thunder God's wrath only showed when the Men of Mist, whom Yumen Guan was with at the time, attacked my village, and also when Bao Ssu was murdered. The unpunished criminal isn't a Bao family member; it can only be Yumen Guan."

Shang shook his head. "But why would Thunder God give powers to someone who was an unpunished criminal?"

"Yumen Guan wasn't always a criminal in his eyes," Mulan returned. "That came later." Seeing doubt in his eyes, Mulan pressed, "I'm the only person you know who has actually met Yumen Guan, and I could tell that that man knows opportunity when he sees it and has no lack of ambition. Now, Shang, put yourself in the shoes of the last Guan. Your family temple has been overturned; there's nothing you can do about that. You have no home and no friends. You are a restless spirit, wanting to be alive again. All of a sudden, Thunder God says you may have revenge on the family of Bao and gives you this wonderful gift—to recruit other restless souls and have them take the forms of the living!"

Shang shrugged his shoulders. "I'd…use it?"

Mulan laughed humorlessly. "Oh, he did. He just didn't use it for what it was _intended_ for. Yumen Guan didn't think, 'Oh, I'd better just make my land safe and force the Baos to move elsewhere, and thank Thunder God while I'm at it.' No—he thought, 'I have the power to turn men into clay with only a touch. I could become ruler of all of China with this power!' He and those close to him hate the Baos, but not enough to distract them from conquest. In that way, they're very smart."

"Hence his attacks on Imperial soldiers," said Shang, the magnitude of what was happening suddenly hitting him. "The place where we're weakest now is the military, thanks to Shan Yu. Yumen Guan knows it wouldn't take much infighting to topple our chain of command!"

Mulan nodded.

"So, what you're telling me is that Yumen Guan is still out there, that his plans have so far worked, and that we have no proof to stop any of this?" Shang took a deep breath. "_Can _we stop it?"

Mulan gave him a secretive smile. "Not _all _of Yumen Guan's plans have worked. He didn't count on Thunder God turning on him once news of his deeds reached heaven. I'll bet the clay statues are hidden someplace. Now, let's say we find Chien-Po's clay statue. His spirit is trapped in it. If we break the clay, Chien-Po's spirit will be released back into Chien-Po's body."

"The real ghost will have nowhere to go," Shang caught on, "except to Thunder God. Break the statue, break the curse. Makes sense." He raised an eyebrow. "And what about proof? So far, we have only the story to bring to the Emperor."

"Hey!" Mulan complained. "I don't know _everything_!"

She expected him to laugh. Instead, Shang said, "Perhaps, but you're still a very wise woman."

Mulan stared at him, sure she was gawking. "Um…wow, I…" was all she said. _Oh, great. Say something! Say something! _she berated herself. But nothing would come out, so she simply reached out and patted Shang's shoulder, feeling like the biggest idiot this side of, "This tattoo will protect me from harm!" _If I'm the wisest person he knows, China's really in for it!_

Absorbed in their own thoughts, neither Mulan nor Shang stayed long to converse after that. At least, that was what Mulan told herself. For, if she were not dreaming, she could swear that someone had entered her room that night and touched his fingertips against her mouth.

* * *

_All right, this _has_ to stop_, Shang told himself as he departed from Mulan's room as if being chased by a nest of hornets. _Since when did you become addicted to spying on women?_

He closed his eyes and admonished himself soundly for doing such a thing. It was true that he took care that no one saw him, and Mulan was such a heavy sleeper that she would never notice, and he had barely even touched her…

…Shang was halfway to her room again before he caught himself.

"If this keeps up, I'll be sleepwalking. Okay, it's time to revise this plan of action."

Shang snorted to himself. _In_action was more like it. It wasn't just a matter of how to tell Mulan anymore. If he had done that properly several weeks ago, things might not have gotten this out of control. Shang had always kept to himself as a matter of habit, but the more his ardor increased, the less he felt able to talk to her about it. At this stage, Shang knew that telling Mulan he LIKED her wasn't enough…if he let down his barriers even an inch, he risked a full confession, to the very last detail. Shang knew that if he were in Mulan's shoes…if someone who'd been his friend for months had suddenly turned to him one day and loudly proclaimed an undying passion for him, the moment would be weird, unromantic, and highly uncomfortable. He could envision it now: Mulan nodding at his declaration and then backing away slowly, as if placating a madman.

The very thought made him rush headlong downstairs, just to make sure he couldn't bolt for her room…again.

It wasn't a pleasant night for Li Shang, though part of it was, admittedly, his own fault. Figuring that having something to drink would probably put him to sleep, Shang mumbled an order for beer and was nearly done with it when he realized that he'd been sipping liquor. Now somewhat more relaxed than he'd wanted to be, Shang still had enough of a hold on his senses to walk more-or-less steadily up to his room, climb into bed, and tie his right arm to his carefully concealed armor, in case his subconscious felt it was time for another nocturnal visit.

The next conscious sensation was of someone pulling at his wrist.

"Great ancestors," said Mulan's voice. "He's going to have to teach me how to tie these kinds of knots. And one handed, too. I'd better not have to cut up his cape."

Mulan was kneeling by the bed, biting her bottom lip as she tried to free him from the constraint. Shang thought with satisfaction that this time she had gotten to see HIM asleep. Then he mentally kicked himself. He was hardly a charming picture now, not having bathed since the beginning of their journey and half-dressed in travel-stained clothes.

Still, it felt good to have her so close.

Shang didn't want to break the silence, but couldn't help chortling as she made another fruitless tug. "Don't worry, I'll untie it."

She jumped slightly when she realized he was awake. "Um, good morning," she said. "How…why…"

Shang shook his head as he freed himself. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I, er, must've gotten drunk, or something."

It wasn't a lie. Maybe it would be enough to dissuade her from…

"If you'd moved about even a little, you'd have woken up the whole tavern with all the armor clanking," Mulan frowned. Then an angry flush swept over her. "It couldn't have been you last night who were…Shang, you were right about that man in the tavern! He's a creep!"

"I…uh…what?" said Shang, not awake enough to follow Mulan's train of thought beyond hoping she would think him incapable of being her late-night visitor.

"You couldn't have been in my room, so someone else was! And he TOUCHED my mouth! I'll kill him!"

That forced Shang's eyes open.

"No—!" he started to say, but by then, Mulan was already out the door.

Rubbing his wrist to restore the circulation, Shang bounded out of the room and down the stairs, sliding agilely past a disgruntled merchant who had tried to elbow him out of the way. This pause gave Mulan the edge she needed to find the unfortunate patron passed out on the floor of the inn, still under the influence of last night's alcohol.

"Grrnngh?" was the most intelligent thing that the would-be flirt could come up with.

That's wasn't good enough for Mulan. She kicked the sole of his outstretched foot. "Up!" she snarled. "Now!"

_Mulan has a good commanding voice when she puts her mind to it_, thought a very distraught Shang as the other man leapt to attention. "Distraught" would be a euphemism in the case of the hungover gentleman, who didn't seem to have many flowery phrases at his disposal today.

The man raised his arms to shield his face from the morning sun. "What?!" he said. "Did that big brute you were with put you up to this?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Mulan felt at her hip, and Shang knew that she'd have drawn her sword if it weren't back in the room. She settled for a fighting stance that rattled the erstwhile charmer, who backed as far into the corner as he could.

"_You_ put me up to this," she ground out. "You sneaked into my room when you knew there was no one awake to fend you off. If I were the tiniest bit meaner I would drag you out of this inn…" she noticed his squint and upraised arms "…into the bright, BRIGHT sunlight…"

"I didn't, no, I'm sorry, won't happen again, please except my, it was only an honest, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" the man choked out, so agitated that he didn't know what he was saying. Abruptly, he realized what HAD erupted from him, and turned pale.

"Oops…"

Mulan started towards him.

"Mulan!"

Her lunge was arrested at the last instant by Shang's voice.

Not daring to touch her, he motioned for her to step away.

She shook her head firmly.

"Shang, you were right to warn me—you were right about him!"

"No, Mulan," he said heatedly. "I _was _him."

Mulan started back in bewilderment.

Her attempted swain, however, realized Shang's meaning instantly.

"Ha-HA, I knew it! I knew—" and had his moment of triumph snatched away by Shang grabbing him by the collar and explaining very, very quietly that the business being discussed between him and Mulan was private, and was _going to stay that way_.

When the seducer had stopped running for his life, Shang turned back to Mulan.

"I—"

A rooster crowed. Inwardly, Shang groaned.

Mulan rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Oh, it's too early for this." She looked resigned. "I think we should go visit that old well where the tombstones were tossed. We might glean some information."

Shang nodded enthusiastically. Perhaps, he hoped, she was too tired to remember what was just said. Perhaps her customary intelligence would fail her and she would forget all about…

"And on the way, _General_, you can explain yourself."

* * *

It felt like forever, that small, small journey to the well of Yumen Guan. Mulan shifted about on Khan until he blew at her, and Shang didn't once glance her way. She felt like she was fighting against that avalanche all over again. His being less than helpful was not unexpected, but she wished that he would make things even a tiny bit easier.

Finally, when they were within sight of the well, Mulan urged Khan ahead and blocked his horse's path, reining Khan to a halt and staring at him fixedly. He seemed incredibly interested in the blots of mud and dung on the path before him, but as she held her ground, there was little he could do.

At last, an answer came.

"I am such a lost cause when it comes to you."

Well. That was certainly something.

Shang looked into her eyes at last, and Mulan saw intense pain there as the moment lingered.

"I was the one in your room last night, not that fop," said Shang with some effort.

Mulan frowned. "But what about tying yourself to your armor by your cape?"

"Ah. That was…after."

Mulan nodded, understanding and disappointed at the same time. "I see. You were intoxicated, and didn't know what you were doing."

Shang visibly winced. "No, that part also came later."

Mulan leaned forward and rested her arms on Khan's neck. "Shang, stop suffering and just _talk _to me!"

He got off his horse and nudged it aside.

"And say what?" said Shang bitterly. "'You fight good'?"

Mulan pursed her lips. "You know, if I clammed up every time I embarrassed myself in front of you, we would never have spoken again."

"You?" he said, astonished. "What would have damaged you in my eyes?"

Mulan cupped her chin in her hand. "What about the time I tried to imitate Yao spitting, and ended up with drool down my chin?"

"That was—"

"Or the time when I first tried to get the arrow, and I fell right on my rear?"

"If you—"

"Or the time I yanked up Yao's foot instead of a fish, or the time that the water bucket fell on my head, or the time when my grandmother told you about my spilling the bowl of beans when I tried to cook?" Mulan hugged her arms to her torso, trying to block out the memories. "I have wanted your approval since the time you thought I was Ping, and I've humiliated myself in ways I couldn't have thought up if I tried." She looked up at him and smiled wryly. "If you ever need a boost of self-confidence, well…it can't be worse than whatever I got up to." She lifted her chin as she dismounted. "If it is, I _dare _you to tell me."

He stepped forward and placed his hand over hers briefly, fervently. "You are very good to me." Suddenly, he drew away as if she had caught fire.

Mulan felt an unaccountable distress. "What's really wrong?" she asked. "Is it something I did?"

"No, it's not you, it's..." Shang shut his eyes in concentration. It looked like he was fighting Shan Yu all over again. "Maybe if I talked to Tang about this first…" Mulan caught him muttering, "though he wouldn't give me good advice, and the Gang of Three would kill me."

Mulan narrowed her eyes. "This is because of my gender."

Shang tried not to look guilty, but Mulan knew him too well.

"Well, it sort of—"

"Isn't it."

"Technically—"

Mulan scowled. "Technically, you can't confide in me because I'm no longer Ping! Terrific, Shang."

Shang spread his hands. "What do you want me to say? Yes, I could have talked to Ping about this. Not to you."

"Hmm," was all she said. "Wait here."

She disappeared behind the nearest tree with her armor and dressed herself in it. Quickly tying her hair back to complete the ensemble, she walked back to Shang with an extra-jaunty step.

"Reporting for duty, sir!" she said in her best Ping voice, drawing her sword as if for a sparring match.

When he turned around, she was pleased to see his mouth open in shock. He recovered his equilibrium and moved to counter her, but she had him on the back foot, and in little time, had soundly trounced him.

"What a wonderfully masculine competition this is!" Mulan said, deepening her voice even further. "An easy way of bonding, a friendly challenge. Much better than talking about sissy girly things like _feelings._"

He was unable to resist a chuckle.

"So!" She moved her sword hilt and rapped him smartly on the collarbone. "Now that we have finished our contest, let's talk about another subject soldiers are fond of—women."

He held up his hands in surrender, and allowed her to lead him away to a grassy hillock, where they both sat down and gazed into the distance. Despite the supposed curse on the land, they were both strangely at peace.

"Ping." His voice was serious now.

"Yes, sir." Mulan hoped that her voice didn't tremble.

"There's a woman I'm close to who's been giving me quite a lot of trouble lately."

_This is about that mistake I made, isn't it? _thought Mulan, but she persisted. "And the problem?"

She waited with bated breath.

"Oh, no, there's nothing wrong with her. This might be easier if it were."

Mulan could not find her voice, but it didn't matter. Shang plowed ahead.

"I admire her greatly. She is a wonderful friend, and she's not only astute, she has wisdom. She can draw me out, something few have been able to do. She fun to be with, she's—"

"Wait, wait a minute," Mulan forced herself to interrupt, "I'm assuming that there's a _problem _somewhere in here?"

"I'm—I'm not sure it would be right to pursue her."

Any words Mulan had died on her lips, but she had done it, had opened the floodgates, and now must manage as best she could.

"I'm not sure if there's anything that I could offer her." Shang's voice shook slightly. "Wealth, power, position? She doesn't need it. Instruction? For now, but one day she might outgrow me, and then what would I give her?" He lowered his voice. "She should know that, with me, she would be loved above anyone. But as much as I'm a scared little boy around her, I also…" He moved his left hand so that it was almost touching her right. "I'm demanding, you understand? And very forceful. If I try to hold my heart back…well, it's not going to work. Not unless _she _tells me so, unless it might hurt her to bear the brunt of such passion."

Shang turned around and looked her full in the face. There was no misunderstanding it: he didn't believe she would stay with him for long if he told her. Somehow, though, the soldier in her had broken through and made him face her decision.

_His eyes are so sharp!_ Mulan thought faintly, glad she had known him for this much time, so that she could withstand the strength of his stare.

The ground could have become quicksand beneath her and not hit Mulan as hard as this. Shocked, warmed, glad, afraid, she clung to the grass as if for balance, and by pure instinct, reached out for him. The instant she did, it wasn't enough, and she pulled him nearer until she could tuck her head under his chin.

"Must I tell you again?" she whispered. "_I won't break, Li Shang_."

She felt his breathing quicken and became giddy.

"Would you mind being Mulan, now?" he asked hoarsely, half-disbelieving.

She dared tradition's disapproval and kissed him softly, just under his jaw. "I'd be delighted."

* * *

_Stay still…very, very still, _Shang reminded himself.

Shang closed his eyes, fingers digging into the soft turf in an effort to restrain himself. When she leaned her head against him, though, his right hand came up of its own accord and rested atop her head, fingers slightly parting her hair. It was silkier than he'd thought it would be.

"Mulan," he began, his voice a whisper.

She inclined her head and met his eyes. "I guess the man disguise doesn't matter much, does it?"

Shang shook his head. "Not now that I know the truth. Man disguise or not, you should be careful. I don't think you realize how attractive you are."

Mulan wrinkled her brow. "Attractive?" she repeated.

Shang laughed at her expression. "You act as if the idea is new to you."

Mulan blushed but said candidly, "It is."

"Lucky me," Shang said lightly, and earned an affectionate elbow in the ribs.

* * *

They strolled, hands almost touching, back to the well. It was time to put aside their inner desires and take up their duties. China kept calling them back, needing them, and yet they did not begrudge their country one bit. The land swelled around them, sweeping them up in its grand sadness. The well was centuries old, but it looked young, nurtured in the cradle of land between the hills and river.

It had been used recently, that they could tell. There was a wooden bucket that looked like it had more holes than sticks, but the rope that lowered it was new, and it twisted down into the dark mud bricks, where the water swished below.

Mulan wrinkled her nose at the dank smell. "I guess whatever we might see is down there."

They looked at each other.

"I'll go!" they both said at once, and both made a furious grab for the rope. Mulan's hands nimbly beat Shang to it, but the latter held on with such firmness that Mulan knew he could pull the rope away, and her with it. Not daunted in the least, Mulan dug her nails in and clung with both arms, trying to steady her feet on the pebbled ground.

"We can't both go," Mulan said practically, "and I weigh less. I should go down."

"That's a new rope," Shang argued, not budging one bit. "I'll be fine."

"If there's a problem, you'll be able to pull me up a lot faster—"

Shang heaved an impatient sigh. "Are we back to arguing, again?"

Studying him for a long moment, Mulan relented. "You're right. We can't begin like this." She let go, and Shang relaxed his grip.

"Good," he said, pleased. "That's all settl—"

Mulan pivoted around, kicked his hand away, and grabbed hold of the rope as she leapt atop the well. Shang cried out, but she was already plunging headlong into the depths before he could act.

"Whooooooa!" Mulan yelled as she sailed downwards, her clasp on the rope now a death grip.

In only a few seconds, the rope gave a sharp jerk, telling her that Shang had caught it and was now holding her tight.

From above, she heard his incensed voice.

"Fa Mulan, if you're not back up here in five minutes, I am forcing you to scrub pots and pans for the recruits for a month! What if you'd kept falling?"

"You were there," said Mulan pleasantly. "I wouldn't have. Now, let's have a look around here…"

Mulan was sure she heard a few curse words floating down to her, but the echo made it difficult for her to prove her hunch. There appeared to be a clanking sound from up above, and then the sound of striking flint.

"I'm sending a lantern down," Shang cautioned her. "It'll be slightly to your left, so don't let it hit you on its way down."

"Hey, I may be still learning, but I can catch!" And she promptly did so. If her fingers slipped a little, she wouldn't tell _him _that.

The lantern's bowl of light threw into sharp relief a bed of mud, a few displaced bricks, and some sharp objects farther below.

Mulan untied her sash, tied it to the lantern, and lowered it as far as the rope would let her, but it wasn't enough.

"Oh, my…hey, Shang, lower me down a little more! There's no water in here, only mud, I think I can stand."

There was no response.

"Sha—"

"QUIET!" he roared, so loudly that Mulan nearly fell off. Taken aback at his reaction, Mulan fell silent. As it happened, it was the best decision she could have made.

Peering up into the dim round window of light, Mulan caught a glimpse of something else. And…two somethings, and three. More shapes than Shang gathered around the old well.

There was the ring of many swords being drawn.

Mulan stayed very, very quiet. There was still a chance they wouldn't notice her. She felt relief that Shang had warned her in time, but this was eclipsed by her worry for him. Soldiers, here? Unlikely. These were some of Yumen Guan's gang. And she couldn't reach Shang in time.

A voice called to Shang, "I, Five, was quite handy with a sword in my era. Care to test me, stranger?"

"_I_ was an Imperial captain," a second voice intruded.

"What are you doing around this well, hmm?" purred a third. "_We _know what lies here, but you shall not. Now, stranger, let go of that rope _on your life_."

Mulan hung there, helpless, still twelve feet from the bottom of the well.

* * *

To all outward eyes, Chien Po met with a dripping wet Captain Wan just west of the capital. They might have been two Imperial soldiers, just sharing in brotherly camaraderie.

"Dear oh dear," said Seven, eyeing Two's soaked hair—it was his turn to laugh. "Not going well?"

"Your mission, either!" raged Two, in one of his odd fits of fury. "The false trail didn't work, and we've lost track of Mulan and the General!"

"Children," said the voice of command, smooth as glass. "Tell me what you have brought. At once."

Seven bit his lip and sauntered forward, realizing too late that in Chien-Po's form, he just looked silly.

To his infinite comfort, Two was compelled to bring Thunder God's list of crimes committed before Yumen Guan, who sat there, hands folded and eyes burning.

"He's on our trail," was all that Two needed to say.

Yumen Guan nodded, moving only to flick a fly away. "We've captured enough imperials to start taking soldiers by force in the army camps. Our numbers are not so great, but they will be enough until we awaken the others."

Seven, ever inquisitive, questioned him dubiously. "There are other lost spirits? I don't remember where I was buried."

"None do but myself," Guan spoke. "It has been long in coming, I know. Fear not: I've sent the other four above you in rank, as well as the three behind. They'll have reached the place where you were found, lurking, not knowing your way home."

Seven tried not to show that he cared. "My family cast me out?"

In all their years of service, Yumen Guan almost never mentioned this.

Now, though, his leader gave him a wan smile. "No. You were buried with honor. But your spirit could not tell you apart from the clay likeness interred in the ground. The statue was so real, so full of life, that your spirit stayed with it instead."

"We couldn't find our way home," Two realized, and he said this almost disconsolately. Then his gaze snapped back to Yumen Guan's. "Why share this now? Because our goal is within reach?"

"Not three months' time will see us lords of the land," answered Yumen Guan. "The whole land. Those who would cry out a warning against us have their words hushed by the high circles of the court. Quite touching, that China is still all that it once was in that respect. Hard facts, our enemies don't have. And," his voiced lowered in a hiss, "the very best of all, you have destroyed one of the Baos, Seven. _Very_ good."

Seven didn't miss a beat. "Promotion?"

"Oh, yes. But after our work is done."

Seven nodded.

"Well, I think we'll let matters rest there, gentlemen," said Yumen Guan. "Send out for no more of the false bandits; they have completed their task. Rest well; relax. We have plenty of days ahead before the Festival of Ghosts."

They knew a dismissal when they heard it.

* * *

Who, among all marshals and counsels and magistrates and kings, could have earned this corrupt soul's respect? Only one, and that one was long gone. Yumen Guan still spoke to her, though she could not hear. Her spirit had been restless too long before Thunder God's coming. It had been swept away, like a skein of silk.

It didn't stop him from confiding in her.

"Honored Mother," he mourned when no others could hear. "Aren't they solid and brave, my warrior-children? They fear nothing, except perhaps becoming like you. Oh, the memory of you. It fills me as if I had true blood again. Those poor souls lose themselves day by day. Memories dim, all except mine. But we two will not ever forget, or be forgotten."

He fell silent, speaking only in his head, not trusting the words to the wind now picking up speed where he stood.

_We will make this land ours, and I will make you a resting place. I will carve it on Xi'an, on the hearts of the Baos. Then, I will set myself on the throne and be content, and Thunder God be damned._

_There are many spirits here, Mama, but only one_ _**life**_!

* * *


	8. End of the Line

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan _or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

A/N: I know this site doesn't look too kindly on authors responding to reviewers in the text, but there are several anonymous reviewers that have taken the time to give feedback. So, my sleepy livejournal account (see link on my user page) will be re-awakened shortly in order to respond to these reviews.

* * *

Chapter Eight: End of the Line

Hands, knees and feet all clinging, Mulan saw there was one obvious option: straight down. She couldn't climb out of the well in time, and if she did, there was no way of knowing whether she and Shang could take on five of these men. They might have already wounded him.

She listened to Shang argue, excuse his presence, and bluff. He did it all with such a clear, serene voice that she knew he must be terribly afraid. The rope hadn't budged from his hands, she could tell, even though the spirits were agitated.

He wouldn't give her to them. They pressed him for answers, and she heard instead of his real reply: _If I try to hold my heart back…well, it's not going to work. _He was thirsty, he explained, after a morning's jog, and that meant: _She should know that, with me, she would be loved above anyone._

He would die trying to hold that line, if she let him.

Mulan was a fiercely devoted person, and it was her bond with those she loved that made her the worst sort of bumbler and the best sort of hero. She understood from Shang's confession that day that he thought no one should have to be on the receiving end of feelings like his. It might be too much for her, he thought; she should not have to bear such a burden, or feel guilty if she couldn't return his affections with that kind of fervor. Either way, he'd stand by her, without compelling her to do the same in return.

Didn't he know that she was no stranger to the fear that wove itself into every muscle when someone she cherished was threatened?

"I said, LET GO!"

"I will _not_."

And now, hovering between twilight and the bitter dark, Mulan became afraid. She feared his passion not for her sake, but for _his_—because she knew what it would do to him. It burned in both their hearts the same.

She listened. One of the killers had struck a blow. It had been blocked.

A second hit. That one found its mark.

Mulan kicked the side of the well in rage. It wasn't fair! She had tried to spare him whatever danger might have lurked at the bottom, and now _she_ had to be rescued! And he was hurting for her!

She kicked again.

_I need an idea…come on, come _on.

Mulan's foot dislodged some of the loose mortar and a brick nearly fell out before she caught it.

She glanced up. No, it was too far to throw.

Mulan clenched her teeth as Shang received another punch.

_Some warrior! Practically buried alive, helpless, a damsel in distress! All I need to do now is scream in terror!_

For the barest second, Mulan stopped moving as her mind worked feverishly.

A thrown brick wouldn't get their attention. There was one thing that would.

_Well, I really am distressed…_

Mulan steadied her nerves, drew in a breath, and—

"AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIII!"

It was no Cri-Kee imitation, but it was a very passable Chi Fu.

"Help!" she screamed for effect. "I can't hold—HELP!"

She drew the lantern to her, and covered the light as best she could.

There was dead silence up above.

Suddenly, there was a hoarse cry and the sound of movement. A few stones scattered from above, and there was a chorus of, "Hold him, stop 'im!" and "He's tryin' to jump into the well!"

_At least they're not hitting him, _Mulan winced as she heard the warriors pin him down.

"Hey, Three, help us out here! It'll take more than two of us to—got him!"

There was a pause in the commotion as Yumen Guan's men got their prisoner under control.

In that pause, Mulan let go of the brick.

Crash!

After a second, smaller hesitation, the leader spoke again. "Oh, yes, Five. There's definitely someone down there." His voice made it clear that he was smirking. "Your sweetheart gone to fetch the water, my friend?" he sneered at Shang. "Five," he said suddenly. "Hold the rope. Ten, get down there and make sure she's dead! If she hasn't joined the spirit world, she will—you were_ told_ to stop struggling, my friend."

Mulan bit her lip and slowly tore open the lantern's casing as best she could while clinging with her legs and one arm. The well walls were slick, and didn't afford good traction.

A rush of air! Ten clambered down the rope, sword in hand, but fortunately for her, feet first.

Mulan held the lantern in one hand, swung it in a circle, and hit him in the leg with the naked flame.

It was good that Yumen Guan had been absent: no rain had drenched Ten. His clothes were as dry as hay stalks.

"AAAargh!"

Runnels of flame traveled up and down Ten's clothes. He failed to shake off the lantern in time. It was his turn to scream, and in his pain-induced madness, he used both hands to pat out the fire.

The burning Ten lost his grip.

Mulan braced her feet against the sides of the well and pushed off, hitting the other side with her back but missing the man as he fell past her to her right, a conflagration of flesh and riled spirit that keened in fear and failure.

"Who's down there? Who dares?" came another outraged voice—it must belong to Nine, for he gripped the rope and started down after her, too.

Mulan's lantern was extinguishing itself on the muddy well floor, but it didn't matter. She had her sight set on her goal: that little spot of twilight at the top of the rope. She let her enemy come to her.

"Lost?" she said when Nine was right above her. "Find your way home, spirit."

She grabbed onto his foot, then released and caught his other leg as he kicked out. She dodged a meaty arm and grabbed it, gaining a foothold on his bent knees, and climbed up him. She caught him under the chin with her shoe, balanced atop his head, and leaped for the higher spot on the rope.

He was faster than he looked. He made one grab at her, then another, then drew his knife. Mulan caught the barest glint of it in the gloom, but it might as well have glowed white-hot. She released her hold entirely, slamming her weight into his shoulders. The knife strike went wildly astray as she careened into him, and she spun off of one shoulder and struck his weapon arm again and again. He was forced to let go; she grabbed the knife, settled her weight back on his shoulders, and pushed upwards.

Her jump left just enough room between them.

Enough room for Mulan to lean down and cut off the part of the lifeline just below her.

"Nooooo!"

The darkness claimed her second opponent.

Mulan felt a jerk and a dizzying upward motion as the man who held the rope reeled from the loss of Nine's weight. In the next instant, there was a flurry of quick, smart jabbing sounds, and an uproar as the remaining men launched themselves at an obviously rebellious Shang.

_Now!_ Mulan thought. Her hands and legs could not afford to shake.

He called, "I've got you!" and she shimmied up that rope like lightning, no matter that her back and legs were aching.

Now, at last, she could see him. He was in bad shape, with a bloody mouth and a bruise on his forehead, plus three men piling onto him trying to pry him away. Almost there, Mulan met his eyes.

"Let go," she said.

He trusted her.

With a firm nod, he released the line, and Mulan grabbed for the wooden pole that the rope wound around. She swung back, swung forth as Shang ducked. She slammed a foot into two of his attackers.

It was over for the aggressors, although they didn't know it. While two of them recovered, Mulan helped Shang upright and gave him the knife. They fought back to back, her ingenuity countering his steadiness, their strength and agility matching one another beat for beat. The three remaining were good—they were skilled—they _weren't _Mulan and Shang.

Three and Five were down when a hollow wail traveled up out of the well.

Mulan felt one small gust behind her. A cloud-blue soul was visible for just the barest second, whirling through her like a storm. Then it carried on, screeching, followed by its brother.

The men had died at the bottom of the well. The spirits that had taken their forms were forced out.

"No!" cried Five, so taken aback that he left himself open for a final dagger thrust. The other two, not heeding reason, fought to the death, and when Mulan and Shang were the only two still breathing, they stopped, dropped their stances, and stood face to face.

Their eyes accusing, their limbs unsteady, they both said, "_I told you so!_"

The groans of the spirits died away, and they were left with only each other, and the terrible anger that each had for letting the other be involved in danger.

_Is this it?_ Mulan thought worriedly. _Will it just go 'round and 'round again? We can't fight now—we've nearly lost so much!_

But to her chagrin, Shang had struck his authoritative pose.

"Fa Mulan, if you ever disobey orders like—"

Then, his shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

"You were brilliant," he said sheepishly.

Mulan made a small smile. "I was right to take the initiative."

Shang let out the tiniest laugh. "Were not. They might have left you alone—you look much less threatening than I do."

"Not a chance; they were too smart! And I couldn't have held that rope for you!" Teasingly, she said, "We _both_ needed rescuing." Her smile faded. "And I'm sorry I had to scream. You must have thought—"

Judging by his face, he had thought the sky had folded in.

He let out a strangled sound, caught her around the waist, and clung to her back, shoulders and neck in three searing embraces. His hands threaded through her hair as he finally stepped back, giving her the kindest smile she had seen from him.

His only words were, "As it turned out, what _you _were thinking was more important."

As if coming out of a trance, Shang gave himself a shake and tried to break away, but Mulan took his hands and placed them back in her hair.

All was quiet while the sun dipped lower.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we, Fa Mulan?" Shang spoke at last.

Mulan laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, Li Shang. Like thunder and lightning."

* * *

Tying the rope to the dead men, they both descended into the earth. The rope had been cut too short for a soft landing, but the men who had fallen down the shaft gave them something to land on.

"I wish we could have saved them," whispered Mulan. "Who knows who they really were?"

"At least they're free," Shang whispered back. It didn't seem right to talk loudly here. He could almost feel the well walls try to whisper back. Tensing his shoulders, he lit his own lantern and peered around.

The bottom was entirely mud, reddish and scarred with the occasional fragment of ruined stone. These pieces rose up in sharp relief in the light, as if half-awakened from their long slumber.

Shang tentatively picked up a cracked stone shard about six inches long.

"Guan Lie-chung," he read. "Yes, this is definitely the place."

"Look at all of these," Mulan marveled. "The writing is beautiful. Do you think we can save some of them?"

Shang cocked an eyebrow her way. "And risk offending one of Yumen Guan's relatives?"

"Good point," Mulan admitted ruefully. She stepped a little closer to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, look! There's a small crevice here where the mud has dried!" She pointed to an even darker aperture. "Do you think there's something in there?"

Shang glanced at the opening. "It's too small to fit a person through," he said. "Especially one made of clay." He sighed in resignation. "Wherever they hid Chien-Po's body, it's not here."

For some reason, the small slice of darkness, that little opening, cut into his thoughts. He could almost swear that he heard a hiss come from it, as in the first time he had been at Mulan's ancestral temple. The air coming from it felt different, somehow.

"On the other hand," Shang said pensively, "there's nothing wrong with a look. I'll see if I can get some of the townspeople to help me knock down this—"

"Hello? HELLO, THERE!" called a voice from above them.

At once, they both tensed, hands on their weapons.

"Who is it?" Shang called harshly.

"Not to worry, General. We have an Imperial contingent here," the voice called down. "Looks like you took care of a few wannabe soldiers," it chuckled. "Lieutenant Shan, personal aide of Marshal Guo," the voice said, more formally.

Shang straightened. "Marshal Guo?" he said incredulously. "The living legend?"

"Back in action, too!" returned Lieutenant Shan. "I have orders for you. You are to report to Wu Zhong again, as a matter of some urgency. I suggest finding a campground before nightfall, General. The nights here are pretty cold."

Shang frowned.

"We're being recalled?" whispered Mulan at his side. He nodded.

"Lieutenant!" he called. "See to it that your men guard this well until we have some idea of its contents. Strange as it sounds, it may be important."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Shang looked over at Mulan's disappointed countenance.

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "We'll come back and widen the breach as soon as we can."

* * *

Five unruly drifts of blue-white fled through the air, tumbling and swaying with every gust. If they could only have transferred themselves…but Yumen Guan's land was remote compared to the others they'd visited. As only spirits without their leader, they couldn't defend themselves.

"Our…people…" grunted Three as he was swung around in midair. "They camp at a short distance from here. If we can move…with the wind…"

The spirits writhed and crawled and clawed at the air, clinging to every tendril of breeze. The wind was blowing west, which they needed. If their fellow spirits saw them, they might help—they _must_ help—

All of a sudden, there was a blinding flash above them. The spirits, eyes wide open, saw a giant, heavenly hammer hurtling towards them.

It was invisible to the human eye, but to the restless souls, it was harder than granite.

"Aaaaah!" they shrieked.

"Hello, little troublemakers," said Thunder God gleefully. "Five down, Yumen Guan!"

* * *

There were no more angry words that day. Argument had evolved into teasing, and then tenderness. After they made camp, Mulan and Shang sat close together.

Following an hour of peaceful silence, Shang's right hand slid across to the back of Mulan's neck, and he ran his fingers up over her soft skin before reaching the base of her head. When her neck arched back into his caress, Shang inhaled deeply.

Then Mulan smiled, peering up at his face. Suddenly she leaned towards him and brushed her nose against his. Shang's eyes were blissfully closed, the contusions on his face forgotten.

"Now, you're _sure_ about this," he said gravely.

She drew back.

"For heaven's sake, Shang, you're the only man I know—and I've known many in all my soldiering—who would ask a woman _three times_ if it's all right to touch her, even if she's already touched _you_!"

Shang reminiscently rubbed his fingers just below his jaw. "Yes, well."

"Hoping I'll change my mind?"

He had to grin. "No!" Then he winced as his hand went to his mouth. "Ouch. I'm lucky to still have all my teeth. Sorry, not a very romantic interlude."

Mulan only laughed and told him to lie down in the grass, helping him to prop his head and neck against a large rock. She herself perched atop it, examining his wounds.

"I didn't get any medical training," she said apologetically. "Cold cloths are about all I can do for this."

Shang moved to sit up. "A true healer couldn't do much more. Nothing's broken, and all the bleeding's stopped. Though I guess I won't be smiling for a while."

"So in other words, no one will notice the difference."

"Hey!" Shang faced her in mock-irritation. "I think I'll be tending to my own wounds, oh fairest maiden."

"Don't you dare." With more force than Shang thought she possessed, Mulan pushed him back down. "When you're better, you can repay me by helping to cook."

Shang quirked an eyebrow. "We have provisions left?"

Mulan carefully dabbed at a small scrape. "Yumen Guan's men had some uncooked rice in their horse's packs, along with a small iron pot."

"Oh." Shang eyed her tentatively. "Do we…just boil it, then?"

Mulan rolled her eyes. "Spoiled city boy," she chided him. "I'll teach you. There are plenty of herbs around here we can gather, and if you want real tea, I can make that, too."

Shang nudged her. "Thought you couldn't cook."

Mulan replied with a sour laugh and wound a bandage around his wrist. "Once I was set on doing a mundane task, I didn't use to pay mind to my surroundings as well as I should have done. At least, it worked that way at home." She stroked his left shoulder as she helped him shrug out of his shirt. "It was thanks to you that I developed the amount of focus I have now."

Shang lifted his back off the ground slightly, enough for the shirt to come off. Now, it was more brown than black, road-stained and bloodied. Worse, hardly any of that blood was his.

So strange. He had never felt so…exposed before. She was even going out of her way to make sure her presence wasn't making him uneasy. Mulan was politely turning her head away, but it didn't matter. As long as she was there, he felt like he'd spent an afternoon shoveling out the stables.

When she next began to turn to him, he arose as if he'd been bitten.

"You know, this isn't a good idea. I should have a bath first—"

"—and be perfectly presentable, hmm?" Mulan said knowingly, still partly avoiding his face. "Shang, we could both use tidying up, but that's not going to happen. You don't need to be fastidious to impress me." She looked his way at least, and flushed deeply.

He raised his head. "I knew it. You're not comfortable with me like this. I'll go to the other side of the fire and—" he tried to put his shirt back on.

She countered his movement with the palm of her hand. "Did I not tell you? Lie back _down_. And stop fidgeting."

Her no-nonsense tone concealed what Shang was sure was dismay. Just as he was starting to feel really miserable, she pressed a cloth against his side, and he felt her fingers caress him ever so slightly. He gave out an involuntary gasp.

"I'm sorry! I know it hurts—"

In an instant, her hand was trapped in a grip like an iron vise. "No."

"But—"

He leaned forward, despite his injuries, and kissed her hand.

"Mulan," he said, a hint of pleading in his voice. "It doesn't hurt."

* * *

Letting her breath catch in her throat, Mulan looked down at where her fingers just touched the deep purple mark that the vile warriors had given him. His hand was pinning hers to his side despite the pain he had to be feeling. A yearning, such as she had never known, coursed through her like a sheet of flame.

She hadn't thought it would be this way. All her life, she expected love to come to her, if it came, wrapped in gentle pinkness, calm and caring and feather-light. But this…this longing tore at her, divided her conscience, and wasn't satisfied with a few sweet smiles in his direction. While her fingers worked over his wound with the smallest, most innocent circles, inwardly the raging, blistering emotion threatened to shake her.

She straightened. She was a Fa. She would _not_ tremble at this, nor give in.

_Besides_, Mulan kept telling herself, _he wouldn't want to see that side of me._

With one last squeeze of his hand, Mulan let go and pretended to see to the fire.

It wasn't long before they were both hungry, and they were both taken aback at how well dinner went. As it happened, Shang had an inflexible interpretation of whatever cooking order she gave him, and Mulan found that, with a pair of hands not as easily distracted as her own, she managed to produce something very easily edible.

To cast out her more dangerous thoughts, Mulan turned her focus outward, to the stars. There was a quarter-moon in the sky, lighting up a swath of healthy farmland, the ground smoother there and looking so harmless. The moon made it new all over again, untouched by curse or superstition. It was a balance of nature and the civilized way. Dry but not yet dust-choked, it needed only a little rain.

A little Yumen Guan.

"Can you envision having such land by your family's shrine, day and night?" Mulan asked, though she didn't expect an answer. "And then, seeing it tilled by someone reckless and greedy? It _was_ right, in the beginning, to seek justice for that crime."

"What I can't envision," came Shang's voice from behind her, "is having all that…and abandoning every acre for the thrill of conquest." He gestured with a sweep of his hand. "What will he find anywhere that will ease his soul better?"

"If we're not careful," said Mulan, "he'll find life. Yumen Guan has been tormented for so long, I think he's forgotten what inner peace is. He'll settle for outer contentment, believe me. If the worst occurs, he might find a kind of shifting immortality, being expelled from one man only to worm his way into another. What better way for him to endure and hold out against eternal wandering?"

Shang frowned. "Then the most merciful thing to do would be to give him to Thunder God. Yes, he'll be punished, but at least it would be an end."

Mulan shook her head. "I wouldn't tell Yumen Guan that."

Shang let out a "humph." Mulan heard him scoot slightly away, and, wanting to lighten the mood, said, "Trying beat a retreat, General?"

Scoffing at that, Shang rested an arm on her shoulder. "Not until _you _order it," he said pointedly.

Mulan looked at him carefully. "Do you really expect me to do that?"

Shang poked idly at the fire with a stick. "Not anymore. I just never expected…nevermind."

Sensing that this was of importance to them both, Mulan coaxed a reply from him.

"Do you remember me telling you about how...unruly my feelings for you are?" Shang said.

He moved so his back was to her. His shoulders heaved a melancholy sigh.

"I, uh," he faltered, "I didn't think you'd be this comfortable with me touching you."

A quizzical expression formed on Mulan's face.

"Shang, what made you think that?"

Shang apparently knew he'd better explain. "I completely lose my head around you, and I, I don't know, I guess I always imagined it differently. I've always been taught that women don't seek men's attentions for their own sake, but allow them in exchange for men providing for them, or, among the greedier ones, for gifts." He looked down. "I thought you wouldn't accept me as much as you have. I want to be sure...Mulan, I would never want to be an imposition."

Mulan contemplated him. "You were expecting me to reject you?"

"To be honest, I was expecting you to slap my hands away every time I tried to get near you." Hurriedly, he went on. "Mulan, with you I never know what to expect. I feel ready for so much, and I know that I should go slowly with this, but I'm not sure that I can." He looked at her ruefully. "I even hoped that when I returned your helmet…that you might…that soon a time would come when…" He swallowed. "When I could talk to you about how far to take this…relationship of ours," said Shang, as if he had mouthed a forbidden word.

Mulan looked alarmed. _Is he asking me…? _"Uh, well, as much as I liked being close to you, I don't think it would be right to…you know…broach certain boundaries before…"

"No, no, that wasn't what I meant!" said Shang, blushing from collarbone to scalp. "I wasn't asking for…I meant as far as…" He swallowed. "Making it permanent."

"Ohhhh." _Well, there goes any prospect for an easy sleep tonight,_ thought Mulan. _There are a thousand questions I have to ask myself, and him, before we even touch upon that subject. It wish it were as painless for me to marry him as it'd be for him to marry me! _

Knowing she'd better speak before Shang mistook her silence for a denial, Mulan fed a twig to the fire and then faced him.

"Shang, you have been the man of my heart when all I could be to you was a second-rate recruit. Each time we've faced death together, there has never been a hair's breadth of doubt that I should always stand between your enemies and you. As a woman, custom binds my hands and hobbles me—I can't pursue you, hold you, touch you as I," her voice faltered, "would dearly wish." She bent her head. "But in the end, there is only one duty that stands between you and me. While I live, I must keep my family strong. They're not exactly young and able. If I can't do that for them, I could never call myself a worthy partner for you."

Shang looked desolate, but still understanding. "I know you have no servants to help you, and that your father needs good care. I also know that they would never leave their home to live elsewhere. But Mulan, don't you think we could compromise?"

"I wish we could!" Mulan burst out, sick at heart. "But you have your own family to think of. You would cause your mother and brother grief if you took things too far on your end. Any compromise that must be made, I must make it." Her look softened. "Shang, I've been away from home for a long time, now. I would never ask you to wait for me indefinitely. So," and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "If my parents and grandmother do all right without me until I return, I'll know that I won't be an unfilial daughter by becoming a part of my husband's family."

Shang nodded as solemnly as if an oath had been sworn.

"Until then," said Mulan, moving nimbly towards her bedroll, "we can both have sweet dreams."

A smile crossed Shang's face briefly. "I'll count on that." He kissed her forehead.

"Oh, and Shang?"

"Yes, Mulan."

"The next time, make sure I've drifted off before you start to watch me sleep."

* * *

A gray-brown mess floated depressingly in a large cauldron. Even the men at Wu Zhong might have had second thoughts about tasting it.

"That's not how you cook rice pudding," said Yumen Guan, irritated. "Haven't you the slightest idea? Why would I bother to add an army cook to our ranks if those instincts didn't lie dormant in the body?"

The cook said fearfully, "Does it need more salt?"

The soldiers behind him waited for the blow to fall.

Instead, Yumen Guan sniffed at the pot's contents again. "I see that you're no help. Well, get rid of that body and find another. We have plenty of food to spare—let's get it right, shall we?" He tipped over the pot in disgust and began issuing specific orders about how their food would be prepared. When something didn't go as expected, Yumen Guan merely thwacked the offending party as painfully as possible with the ladle, rather than reaching for his sword.

It was an odd sight, the ghostly warriors rushing about to make a good dinner. Yumen Guan, however, seemed right at home. He lifted a ladle out of what had been a brown morass and was now an enticing dish.

Yumen Guan closed his eyes, waving the scent toward him with one hand while with the other, he lifted the ladle to his lips.

"You're still so very human, General," said Seven's voice, almost inquiringly.

Yumen Guan's eyes remained shut, though his ears told him exactly where and how Seven stood behind him.

"You other spirits," Guan said nonchalantly, "need to remember life better, sometimes. When was the last time one of you chased after a pretty girl, got roaring drunk, or laughed yourselves silly? For all you want to rule over life in China, you sometimes appear afraid to embrace it."

"Hard on the heels of life rides death," said Seven shortly. "And, I do beg your pardon, when was the last time you did any of those three things you mentioned?"

Yumen Guan smiled beatifically. "Precisely why I have my cooking pot. Savor it, Seven. I still have all the skills, yes?" More bitterly, "Not that anyone appreciates such things in the mortal world. But they should."

He swung around gracefully and offered the ladle. "Care for a sample?"

Seven took it. "I do. Care for some news, sir?"

Yumen Guan nodded. "Please." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an increasingly envious Two lurking in the background.

"Four and Six have returned. They looked long, and have at last..." Seven's voice rose a notch, though he was obviously striving to be quiet. "We found it, sir. We know where all our clay bodies were, when you awakened us. Ours were badly broken." He wrinkled his nose. "The remainder are intact."

"Yes," said Yumen Guan. "That's how I rescued your spirits, and couldn't free the others. How many did you manage to recruit from there?" he asked sharply.

It was time for Two to butt in.

"None," he said brusquely. "None at all! Four and Six limped back here, telling about how they found Three, Five, and Eight dead at the mouth of the well! Nine and Ten were helped all the way down it. Four and Six felt they'd better report back to you."

"Of course they did," said Yumen Guan. "I passed them on the road. It was lucky, was it not, that Fa Mulan and Li Shang were recalled in time to keep from exposing the aperture? Such good fortune…" He looked exceedingly proud of himself.

Two stamped his foot like a petulant child. "We lost! Now, they'll return and we won't awaken—"

"Fa Mulan and Li Shang will _not _return there." Yumen Guan's voice was as low as a death rattle.

At that, Seven put his hand on his sword hilt. "You're sending more of us there?"

A shake of the head.

"Rather," said the general, "I'm keeping them away. Trust that there will be _many _distractions for them ahead, before the summer comes to a close. Oh, Two is sulking again. Something else on his mind, I wonder?"

"Our storage areas for the statues of these Imperials are filling up," said Two, his temper cooling and making him twice as dangerous. "We need a place where they can all be accessed. The place by the well is too full—and not strategically sound. It would be useful to keep them somewhere else."

"As hostages, you're thinking," said Yumen Guan, looking closely into Two's hollow eyes. "Well done. Not so very easy, hiding all of those men of clay." His eyes, like heated coals, burned with excitement. "I know a place where none will ever disturb them." He scooped another ladleful, and tasted it. "Mmmm. It will be wonderful, my children. Fa Mulan will be so pleased at my plan, she will clap her hands in joy!"

Casting a smirk up at an invisible Thunder God, Yumen Guan set out to further awe his troops.

"Two months to the Festival of Ghosts!" he said, eyes gleaming at the sky. "Catch me if you can, you and your justice!"

Rain clouds move in farther south. Sun smiled down upon the Imperial City.

* * *

Two weeks later, a storm broke over Yu-Wen.

It was a false alarm, the ancestors knew. There were no bandit attacks, no Men of Mist. The town was prospering, the villagers cultivating their crops and welcoming the rain as a boon to their future harvests. The incense was always streaming out of the temples, these days—partly in thanks, and partly to ward against evil fortune.

All was well, or all seemed to be.

Mushu could not have been more miserable.

The Great Ancestor couldn't demote Mushu, after all he'd done (or said he'd done) to increase the Fa family honor. No, the patriarch had just leered down at Mushu in that aggravating way and said that such an _honored _guardian should be helping with the upkeep of the Fa temple, while Mulan was away.

"It'll be good practice," he said one day, twirling his cane idly, "for when she abandons you to the Li family guardians in a short while."

Mushu leaped in out of the rain and shook himself off.

That did it.

"Abandons, huh? You must feel pretty full of yourself to be sayin' that. Trust me, that girl couldn't shake me off if she had enough fireworks to blow us all to Canton." He put his claws on nonexistent hips. "Ya'll think some overachievin', super-solemn bigwig guardians can put one over on ME? I go where I'm wanted. An' if Mulan wants me, those ole stoneheads had better be prepared to fight me for her!"

Half of the ancestors tried vainly to contain their laughter. Unlike last time, the other half were casting discomfited glances at the Great Ancestor.

"At any rate," sniffed the Great Ancestor, "you belong here, for now. Mulan can't run into too much danger in a backwater region like that. It's hardly the Imperial City. No, Mushu, I'm afraid you aren't called for. Now, tell Cri-kee it's time to ring the gong and put us all back to sleep again."

Mushu let out a spurt of flame in frustration. "Oh, yeah?" he shot back.

Then an idea struck him.

"Oh, _yeah_!" he exclaimed. "I mean, of course, I'd be deee-LIGHT-ed to put ya'll back to sleep. Cri-Kee, don't waste no time gettin' them all in their tablets, every last one." He made an exaggerated bow and lowered his tail. "I live but to serve thee, O mighty ancestor!" he said in mock sternness.

_Heh heh heh. __I think Mulan had the right idea all along, _he congratulated himself. _Wait 'til everyone else is snoring like the dead...well they, _are_ the dead...then sneak in, light some incense, and turn tail an' run for it! _

Cri-Kee was just finished with sending Fa Dang's head into a loudly-snoring eternal rest, when there was a thunderclap.

Mushu glanced up uneasily at the sky.

"Yikes," he said. "Maaaybe I'll wait until morn—nah. Better get this trip all squared away 'fore someone notices."

Scrambling as quietly as he could out of the shrine, Mushu made his way across the Fa family compound and out the door.

He was just about to try and spook a horse into giving him a ride, when he noticed a blue glow emanating from another ancestral temple.

"Hey!" he said in surprise. "That's Ping's temple! I wondered if that ole second-rate guardian was still practicin' his protection over the place. Oi, PING! What's up, man? Bet ya that girl ran off with a water rat in the end, am I right?"

Impatiently flicking away the raindrops, he made a beeline for the shrine.

It was then than Mushu heard the screams of the ancestral family that Ping served. Dashing forward, tripping now and then over his own tail, he arrive just in time to see what had happened.

CRASH! BOOM!

Never had thunder and lightning been so close.

Mushu's jaw dropped to the wet ground as he took in the scene before him.

"Oh, Szechuan sauce," he said terror, and scampered away in a blur of red. "Knew I shouldn't have left her alone. Mulan! Mulan! MULAN!"

* * *


	9. A Hard GoodBye

Disclaimer:I do not own Disney's _Mulan _or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

Chapter Nine: A Hard Good-Bye

Mulan arrived at Wu Zhong with Shang barely a fortnight after their sojourn to the land of their nemesis. Had they hurried, they might have made it sooner, but the past spring and early summer had taught them that while orders had to be obeyed, the army tended to devalue the meaning of "urgent." They took their time in small places, lingering on hilltops and by remote monasteries, then pressing on until the moon was high. They approached Xi'an when the tide of sightseers and city dwellers was ebbing, and the market stalls were neatly battened down against the night. They discovered how long each slept, and how deeply; how each of their horses liked to be brushed down; when a bird's flight or a waterfall would catch the other's eye. They sang to each other by firelight and had a tournament of weiqi with pebbles and a grid drawn in the earth. The little intimacies grew on them until they began to feel like they truly had a share in one another's life.

It followed, then, that Wu Zhong struck them both as being so bewilderingly normal that they felt awkward, at first. Mulan greeted old acquaintances and avoided Shang, and he did the same, as if their new understanding had been tattooed on their faces and someone might recognize it.

Their lead in the murder of Bao Ssu, Shueh, had been reported killed in action by Captain Wan. There was nothing to substantiate either of their suspicions—not the slightest smidgen of proof. With that and Mushu being relegated to patrolling Mulan's temple, the secrets that they both shared were shoved aside in the ever-expanding tumult of the army camp.

"We're moving the men west in one week—orders from Marshal Guo," Captain Wan informed the general two days after they arrived. He had to shout over the noise about who had put a dead rat in someone's tent. "It seems there has been suspicious activity along the northwest border. It's high time we sent soldiers there. The Huns might even attack again from that direction!"

"West," Shang repeated, giving Mulan a glance embedded with the words, _I don't believe this._

"Is it wise to shift so much of our forces to counter what may only be a probable threat?" Mulan wondered.

Captain Wan turned to Shang. "Does she always question the wisdom of her superiors?"

Mulan winced, wondering what Shang would say—but started at his reply.

"That is part of her job, Captain Wan."

She wished she didn't feel like she was letting him down by saying such things, even in front of only one officer. Mulan might have her strokes of genius, but the way was hard when everyone else was rowing in the opposite direction. She had to fall in with the command structure, but she couldn't be a mindless machine. After hours, she racked her brains for solutions to the problems that faced them, but was unable to think of any way to prove such uncanny goings-on as she and Shang had seen face to face.

More than ever, Mulan wished Mushu were here. Shang might be lonely at the top, but Mulan, in the middle, was lonelier still.

* * *

Helter-skelter, Mushu raced, sometimes half-sinking into the squishy ground. There was no horse to hitch a ride on—in fact, Cri-Kee was clinging to _him, _chirping in fright. It didn't matter, now. He had to warn Mulan.

"Hey!" Mushu swatted at the top of his head. "Wanna cut it out? Or, if for once in your life ya feel like livin' up to your nickname, help me get a ride somewhere! I've been runnin' for ten minutes and have barely made it out o' the village!"

Boinggg! Boinggg!

"HEY!"

The cricket jumped up and down on Mushu's head excitedly. When the diminutive dragon tried to shoo him away, Cri-Kee sprang into the air and clung to both of Mushu's whiskers, squeaking.

Mushu's eyes bulged at what he heard.

"A free horse? Where, where'd ya see it? You're not imaginin' things, right?"

Cri-Kee shook his head emphatically and motioned in the right direction.

The horse he mentioned was barricaded in a pen with stout, tall posts and a bolted gate. None of this mattered a whit to the two enterprising conspirators, who soon scuttled between the slats in the fence and faced the…horse.

He was a huge beast, with a barrel-round belly and truly intimidating back and haunches. A bit of madness gleamed in his eyes, and he reared up as they approached.

The ground all around the creature was thoroughly tamped down, as if the horse had been pacing the pen waiting for them, and was now itching for entertainment.

Mushu grinned his widest at Cri-Kee. "Good idea!" he said, petting the cricket affectionately. "A sturdy animal, not yet long in the tooth…perfect for our needs. Why, for a second there I could almost forget that THIS HORSE MADE HUANG LO BREAK HIS LEG!"

As if proud of his accomplishment, the steed's tail thrashed and he bent his corded neck to glare down at them.

Mushu picked up Cri-Kee by the antennae and shook him.

"Lucky. Do you know what that word means? It means not havin' to ride a whirlwind o' teeth an' temper 'til he decides to catapult us into the nearest thorn bush!"

For a moment, Cri-Kee was silent. Then he _cheeped_ something into Mushu's ear. If Granny had been there, she would have translated it as: "It's for Mulan."

Mushu cringed.

"Yeah, okay, let's break this monster in before he decides to have an early breakfast. Heeee-yah!"

Thump.

"Ow! ...This could take a while."

* * *

Shang fought the urge to drum his fists against the heads of some of the newest recruits. It was one thing, back in his earliest days in command, to admonish the gung-ho mob of men whose skills were amateur, at best. Back then, at least they understood that they were only a small company in a larger army, and the Huns were a real threat. Now, even though China had fewer forces, the men seemed to think that their troop could single-handedly smash any danger to the motherland. After all, the new recruits in the last battle had done just that! When Shang tried to point out that they had had Mulan with them at the time, the reaction was, "That's right, we even won in spite of having a woman along! Hooray for the Middle Kingdom!"

At which point, Shang would grab a couple of the ringleaders and send them for a quiet "talk" with Yao, who was proving to be quite good at managing the rough-and-tumble crowd.

Shang shook his head. At what point had Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po become real soldiers? Before the war had really gotten started, the three had been the biggest scamps of them all. Now, they had managed to keep order in the ranks and get their soldiers more or less up to standard. Yao's gruffness and penchant for knocking skulls together made him an ideal drill sergeant, while Ling's constant, almost annoying energy meant that he lent the soldiers he had trained some enthusiasm.

And Chien Po?

Shang shook his head. Whoever impersonated him had done a good job. Yao and Ling had reported to him more than once, noting that the giant hadn't seemed particularly out of character lately. He was always large, friendly, and quiet...just like they remembered.

"Don't worry, though," said Ling, winking at Shang confidently when they next met. "If someone's impersonating our old buddy, you can bet we'll catch him in the act!"

"Yeah!" said Yao, punching Ling to the dirt in agreement. "We'll pummel him so hard—oh, sorry, Ling."

Putting a hand to the bridge of his nose, Shang thanked them for their help.

The recruits aside, it wasn't such a bad situation, really. Chien-Po behaving made Shang relieved, even though inwardly he chastised himself—for if there had been any proof that Chien-Po wasn't himself, it would have meant an end to the charade and possibly the recuperation of the real Chien-Po. Apart from that, Shang had gotten an unexpected reprieve from the hardships of generalship. Its origin was the least likely source: Chi Fu.

Disappointed, Shang had heard, by the Emperor's refusal to hand the reins of command to him upon Shang's unofficial reprimand, Chi Fu had gone out of his way to take military matters into his own hands. However, since the sport that Chi Fu excelled at most was paper-shuffling, the counsel sought to improve his status by taking on some of the more tedious responsibilities of Shang's position. Chi Fu's urge for self-aggrandizement was so great that Shang, to his delight, avoided being slowly smothered in paperwork. He still had a few minutes on hand at the end of each day—and rather than thank Chi Fu, which would have meant an abrupt end to his good fortune, Shang wisely tried to assert his authority over the stacks of supply reports and blacksmithing bills that meant so much to the counsel.

"Your father would never have acted in such a way!" Chi Fu would say bitingly at these meetings, hugging the mass of scrolls to him as if they were his favorite stuffed animals, and Shang would stomp out, seemingly in a fury.

Mulan wasn't the only person who could be sneaky when such action was called for.

Speaking of which, Shang had called _her_ to his tent for a special talk. He had observed her looking uncertainly at the lines of wet-behind-the-ears young men. He knew what she was thinking: why hadn't she been given anyone to train? Although Shang had spent nearly every part of their spare time teaching her all he knew in technique, endurance, and speed, he understood that she didn't appreciate being singled out.

Shang held up his hands as Mulan entered.

"At ease," he said companionably. "I'm sorry for the lateness of the hour, but I felt we had better get something cleared up."

Mulan's eyes roved to either side of the tent. "I understand the urgency of certain military matters, sir," she said diplomatically. "Just keep in mind that the longer I'm in here, the more tongues will start to wag. I don't suppose you could open the tent flap?"

Shang shook his head. "This is a private moment in a soldier's life, and I think it should be kept as such for now. If it bothers you too much, I can send them all into the hills for a lengthy hike."

He said this with a knowing look in her direction, and knew by Mulan's embarrassed posture that he had reminded her of her being unable to make the grade carrying two sandbags attached to a stick.

Now, though, she was curious.

"What could possibly be that confidential?" Mulan asked, her eyes wide. "Unless…"

Hurriedly, Shang tried to reassure her. "It—don't worry, it doesn't concern our—that is, the more intimate side of—" Now _he _was the one who hung his head.

Mulan saved him by saying, "Actually, I was only going to mention Yumen Guan."

"Ah."

It was unfair that such a simple misunderstanding could leave him feeling so defenseless.

To build up his confidence again, Shang turned his back to her and picked up the item he had sent for.

"Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po each have one section of trainees under their command. Captain Wan is in command of all of these, and they will march west, per orders from Marshal Guo." He gave her a searching look. "As you may suspect, I am leaving in a few days' time to visit Tang in the Imperial City, and then I march with them."

Mulan swallowed, but maintained her composure. "I know," she said softly.

Shang tried not to show how much those two words left him aching.

He cleared his throat.

"You are to stay behind," he said, "but not as punishment. Indeed, I hope you feel confident enough to train a smaller section: that which remains behind."

He pressed a scroll into her hands.

"At dawn tomorrow, you will summon these men to the training fields. Most of these men are of high birth, yet have not had the patience or inclination for the academy."

Mulan frowned. "And why do you separate these men out from the rest?"

"They," said Shang, "are the ones who can afford horses."

The scroll nearly dropped from Mulan's hands.

He gave her a kind look in return for her astonished one. "As you know by now, riding a horse into battle is quite different from putting it through its paces in an open field. I believe you could do a lot of good, helping them."

Mulan nodded. "My father trained Khan as a warhorse, hoping that one day Mama would give birth to a son who would ride him. Another horse would have faltered or panicked when I—_we_—most needed him." She smiled reminiscently. "Pity you were unconscious at the time, Shang. You should have seen him fight against the wave of snow."

"Then you can easily see where a man who thinks he is a confident rider may lose a battle due to poor management of his horse. And," Shang drew a slightly ragged breath, "the best cavalrymen in China all died at Tung Shao this past spring."

He held her gaze for a long moment, then turned to face her fully.

"This has been long in coming to you. I am honored to be the one bestowing the new rank on Fa Mulan."

He pushed back his cape and drew forth a handsomely made sword with a hand-tooled sheath.

Mulan's mouth formed an O.

Shang straighted.

"Captain Fa," he said. "You will train new cavalry troops for China. As long as you are in the service of the Emperor, you will maintain the morale and high standards to which I hold his army. Do you swear to abide by this?"

Breath almost stolen away, Mulan still managed to say, "I swear."

As the sword changed hands, Shang let the silence of the camp overtake them. He remembered all too well how thrilled he had been to receive the same honor. Now…now he had just taken an enormous risk. They both knew it.

"Shang," was Mulan's first word after she had ceased gaping at her new weapon. "Chi Fu and his like will never stand for this. And the men…the men hardly know me."

"They know what the Gang of Three have told them about you," Shang corrected her. "No one will talk down to you if you show that you're the one in the lead. Just prove yourself to them as you did so well with us, and they'll follow you across the ocean."

"On horseback?" Mulan laughed. "That_ is_ a compliment."

Shang feigned a strike at her shoulder, which she blocked with ease. "Well, that's the end of me trying to compliment _you_," he said, unable to hold back a smile. "Be off. And don't worry about the naysayers." He bent down and whispered into her ear.

"I know what I could have done. You could have been a figurehead, remaining a symbol of China's strength—_the woman, _not truly part of the army. Do you know what I think, Fa Mulan? I am sure that you are a warrior. I am sure enough of it to risk my career on it. And don't start to thank me. It's what should be done, no more, no less. I'm glad to have you here with us."

She gripped his shoulder. "I understand."

He turned away then, and with a rustling sound, revealed her new cape.

Mulan waved it away.

"Oh, no. We're not on the battlefield yet, and I refuse to parade around in it unless it's needed. I will take the sword with me, though. I have some rogues to whip into shape."

Turning her head once to beam at him, Mulan exited the tent.

* * *

Shang closed his eyes and sat down on the floor, unrolling a map before him.

When his head made it painfully clear to him that no work was going to get done if he didn't stop thinking about her, Shang stopped surveying the outposts by the frontier towns to the west and took out another roll of bamboo.

There was a matter to attend to that he had been thinking of for some time. It had begun to take hold of his thoughts when he had overheard Mulan's debate with her mother about her future. He knew that if it weren't resolved quickly, he and Mulan would both suffer in the long term.

Shang bent his head over his writing. Detailed as the request was, there could be no room left for error.

He had barely signed his name in red when the tent flap shook.

Shang's head snapped up.

"Yes?" he barked, not pleased at the interruption.

With a distinctly superior manner, Captain Wan strolled in.

"I hear you are now equaling my rank with that of Fa Mulan."

He stared hard at the general.

"Sir," added the captain, almost too late.

Shang's tone was businesslike. "Captain Wan, you know very well that you have seniority over her. Mulan is not even going to the front lines to confront our…" he strove to keep the doubt from his voice "…perceived threat."

Wan thumped his fist against his palm. "Precisely! Why should she be the exception? Fa Mulan should march with the rest of us, out west! If you keep her here, on her own, the men are going to think you're keeping her out of danger." As if seeing that that incentive wasn't enough, Wan added, "For your own, very personal, reasons."

Shang gave him a black look.

Wan assumed an injured air.

"The words are not mine, General, I assure you. They come from the men. Whispers are going around via the trainees—"

"You spend too much time consorting with your subordinates, then," Shang answered him. "Rest easy, Captain Wan. Mulan's gender doesn't factor in at all. That difference won't matter in the grand scale of things. She's a superb rider and she'll be a good teacher. You watch. A few months, and she'll command respect effortlessly."

"Sir!" Captain Wan protested, almost violently. "She should go west with us! I am sure the Marshal would wish such a thing."

"I suggest you appeal to him, then. He's currently in the Imperial City, I understand. Dismissed."

Wan made a sound of frustration and exited the tent.

Shang smiled to himself. He did have his own reasons for keeping Mulan in central China, but they were nothing like what Captain Wan had suggested. He was suspicious of their marching orders, and wanted his most trusted warrior keeping an eye on things from here. If there were any danger, or if anything further could be proven about the cohorts of Yumen Guan, the new captain should be the first to know.

* * *

"Stubborn, iron-fisted, pig-headed…"

"You sound like a grumbling housewife," said Seven, lying down to rest on his mat. "So the general wouldn't acquiesce. We'll both keep an eye on Mulan from here." He laughed.

Two rounded on him.

"Have you been touched in the head, Seven? Your orders are to journey with your illustrious fellows—Yao and Ming, is it?—in the same direction as the rest of the army."

"Yes, well, I plan on fixing that," said Seven. "Chien-Po's death would look too suspicious at a time like this, but there's a simpler way. I shall simply be sick to my stomach on marching day, and have to delay awhile until the men have gone."

Two snorted. "I suppose you'll arrange that by kneeing yourself in the gut? Or, here, let me perform that honor—"

If Seven could have seen Two's face at that moment, he would have gone for his sword. As it was, he laid a warning hand on Two's arm.

"Coming to blows?" he said, whispering through a deadly smile. "I think not. Yumen Guan would never stand for it. Where was I? Oh, the infirmity. As I have learned from our beloved general, there is a certain herb that induces vomiting. It's not local, but I've had enough time to prepare for this moment. I've had it sent here, to a false name. I might retch in the sight of the great Fa Mulan herself; who knows? It has no long-lasting ill effects. Enough explaining; I have my own plans, and I can say with a completely clean conscience that not one of them involves you." He gave a low chuckle. "One might involve her; we'll see."

"Found out about that herb yourself, eh?" spat Two. "I know who showed you. You and Guan are so chummy lately, I'm surprised you don't jump in bed together."

Then, Seven _did _draw his sword.

"I am not," he said, "willing to fall through the ranks with you, should our general hear you speak so much as a syllable more. Out. I don't need your counsel, and you're stinking up my tent with your lies."

But Two didn't back down that easily.

"It wasn't meant to irk _you, _Seven," he said. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll understand how much knowledge Yumen Guan has that he shouldn't ever have known."

That set Seven back a few paces.

"Eh?"

Two rolled his eyes, although he knew that Seven couldn't see him. "Cooking. Herbal remedies. How to make clothing with smoking hemp, like with those Men of Mist. Does that sound like the things a well-to-do landowner would know? Even one whose family line was at an end?"

Seven's voice was calm.

"I never figured you'd be brave enough to accuse Yumen Guan of lying."

"Lying, tuh. I'm accusing him of being something else that we don't know about. We were all awakened after he was. He could have taken on any sort of guise before his current one. There's something that he hasn't told us…some part of life that he has lived and we haven't. I can't pin it down, but I _know _it's there." With an unkind tap on the top of Seven's head, Two strode out. "And if you weren't so concerned with rank, you might think along those lines, too."

* * *

Angrily striding out of his tent, Seven moved towards the lake. A good bath always helped, he found. Even when the water was cold, he liked being immersed and hearing nothing but the pounding of his heart.

All drawbacks notwithstanding, it was a good thing to be alive.

"Hey, Chien-Po! Going to take a dip?"

On second thought…

"Hello, Ling," said Seven wearily as Ling and Yao flanked him on either side. Although Seven was bigger than both of them put together, he still kept on his guard. The knowing glances and secret nudges that those two had sent each other's way had been making him nervous. If he didn't know better, he would think that they were in on his secret—but that was ridiculous. If they had known what he was, he wagered they'd run screaming in the other direction.

The thought brought more than a little bit of pleasure to him.

"Well, my friends," said Seven, as peaceably as he could manage under the circumstances, "I was actually just going to wash my face. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you two to your gamboling in the moonlight."

"To our…huh?" said Yao. "We're not gambling!"

Seven resisted a very strong urge to crash his fist into the side of Yao's head. He'd seen the strength of the shorter man, and while not all that impressed with Yao's skill, had a healthy respect for avoiding personal injury. "Right, right, my mistake. So, how goes the training?"

"Awww, it's great!" said Ling. "I only fell flat on my face once! And then, when they laughed, I got to kick the stuffing out of them with my moves!" He demonstrated a spinning kick on the nearest tree, which didn't seem as inclined to bend as a green recruit. "Gaaah! Well, it worked better in camp. That put them back into line, and then…"

"Oh, yes, fascinating," said Seven. "Put some cold water on that. Oh, and—"

"Hey, wait!" Yao complained. "Aren't you going for a swim?"

"No, I told you," said an increasingly irritated Seven. "No swimming. Only a face wash. Clear?"

Ling pouted. "What's eating ya, big guy? You're not as much fun as you used to be."

"Yeah!" Yao chimed in. "I remember when I stood on one shoulder and Ling on the other, just to try and get that arrow down."

"And I remember when you thought that huge cauldron of rice was entirely for you." Ling guffawed. "And you picked it up and took it back to your tent!"

"Eheh," said Seven, not exactly jovial.

"Come on," said Yao, tugging at his arm. "You're having some fun tonight, got it?"

Seven had had enough. "Oh, yes," he said. "I understand."

With a pretend smile, he lifted up one man in each hand.

He swung them back

"One…two…"

"Noooooo!" they protested.

"Three!" said Seven gleefully and swung them into the pond.

PLOOSH!

Daintily, Seven wiped his hands on his pants. Oh, yes. It turned out, he liked a game as much as the next fellow.

The real Chien-Po would have jumped in the pond to take part in a splash-fight. Seven, head full of Two's warning, strayed from the edge and found himself in a more heavily wooded area. The moonlight barely slid through the bamboo trees, and Seven relaxed as he found himself entirely alone.

No. Not alone, after all.

In a trice, Seven's ear was to the ground. He heard hoofbeats thundering towards the camp. Just in time, he rolled into the underbrush and made the bamboo shoots cloak his presence from whoever was storming into camp. If it was an official, he might have some useful information that Seven could overhear.

Seven fidgeted as the beast romped through the vegetation. There was something more about this horse that bothered him. He sniffed the air. It seemed off, somehow. There was an otherwordly tang to it, as if…

"Spirit!" Seven hissed as he bit his lip in concentration. He was in the presence of something not quite human, and his own restless spirit writhed beneath the placid bulk of Chien-Po.

As he spoke, an exclamation rent the air.

"Whoaa, boy! Watch it! Gaaaaah! No, don't—"

Thump!

A small form was unceremoniously tossed over Seven's head and into the scrub brush.

Seven craned his neck.

The little red creature got to its feet and shook a tiny, clawed fist at the retreating backside of the horse. "Good riddance to ya! I'd rather ride on a mule's behind!" It didn't appear to notice Seven, so bent was it on chastising what had to be the biggest, meanest horse Seven had ever seen.

Seven sniffed the air again.

_Yes, you're the supernatural being_, he thought to himself. _What are we, then? A dragon? Yes, and not an imperial one. A minor player. Less trouble, consequently._

"All right, well, let's get on with it, then," complained the irate creature. "I've gotta warn Mulan that the village is—"

Seven sprung into action.

Lunging on his knees at the dragon, Seven clamped a meaty fist over its head and torso.

"Gotcha. Try to breathe fire, and I'll crush you, I promise."

Muffling the protests of the being, Seven took an empty pouch at his side and stuffed the unfortunate guardian into it. Tying it securely with a leather strap, he rose to his feet and skipped back to his tent. It was a very odd sight, but Seven was too upbeat at that moment to care.

Mulan's guardian, in his clutches! A member of the spirit world, but susceptible to the wear and tear of life for the brief moments of awakening in the guardian's long existence.

Seven patted the pouch.

"Those two bumblers back at the lake are right," said Seven. "Mulan's dragon, correct? Tonight, I'm going to have some _fun._"

* * *

The day finally came when Mulan would part company with all of her friends. She had taken pains to get to know a few of the men outside her acquaintance throughout the past week, and after a while, those that didn't know her had begun to look on her with a sort of ambivalent tolerance. Those she had trained with, on the other hand, were happy to pick up where they had left off. This included spitting contests and arm-wrestling, but Mulan didn't mind.

She did mind that the whole company was departing almost as soon as she'd gotten back on her feet with the army again. Things had been going terrifically, and despite her promotion, Mulan would rather have gone west with them than stay in Wu Zhong.

Mulan decided to get as early a start as possible on training those under her. She knew, above all, that the kind of man who owned a horse might be more used to giving commands than taking them. She meant to be tough on them, as much as they could stand. _As Shang would have done_, Mulan admitted. _Not to be cruel, but to make them capable of holding their own at a crucial moment._

She showed only a little mercy in letting her charges talk and joke with the rest of the camp. She had warned them against drinking excessively, for training would begin promptly the next day, and she wouldn't be coaxing anyone to get up.

"I loved sleeping late…still do," she told them that afternoon. "There's no excuse for you to rise late if I can be up with the sun. Understood?"

The subsequent "yes, sir" had been a little less ready than she had hoped, but it was a start.

Later in the evening, Mulan found out that about half of the men had taken her advice, and that the other half were roaring drunk and singing obscene campfire songs along with the rest of the trainees. Putting it down to inevitability, Mulan tasted a bit of wine herself, though not enough to get tipsy. The rowdiness was beginning to make her irritated, and worse, lonely, so she began to back away…just in time to see a familiar figure approaching.

"Baba?" said Mulan, not comprehending, as Fa Zhou slowly made his way toward her.

He smiled. "Hello, Mulan. I came as soon as I heard the news about your promotion." He gave her a look of approval. "You cannot know how proud I am."

For a split second, Mulan wished she were a little girl again. She couldn't show half the emotion that she felt, not now, not in front of her men.

Her eyes apparently said enough, for Fa Zhou nodded, as if seeing what he had come for.

"How did you get here?" asked Mulan. "I took Khan with me, when we…"

"I was offered a very comfortable ride," Fa Zhou answered. "Li Shang came to see us last night; did you know? Ahh, I thought not. He loaned me his horse, and as my leg doesn't prevent me from riding, I eagerly accepted. I have missed you," he said warmly, and then chuckled knowingly as he heard the song in the background.

"Oh, dear." Mulan reddened. "I'll speak to the men about—"

"No, no need for them to know that I'm here and spoil the fun. Besides," and his face turned very solemn, "on your oath that you will not repeat this to your mother…I made up the third verse of that little ditty, when I was a very young man."

Mulan clapped two hands to her mouth to muffle her laughter. Some moments had passed before she could compose herself.

"Great ancestors," she said merrily. "Oh, it's good to see you, Baba. I know you can't stay for long. Are things all right at home?" she said anxiously. "I mean, I know there are a lots of chores to be done and—"

Fa Zhou shook his head. "Set your heart at ease, Daughter," he said. "Our hands are busy, but not overwhelmed. We are all doing fine. I just wanted to say good-bye, so you wouldn't feel like you were neglecting us." Upon seeing Mulan's face, he said, "You think I don't know all your worries? A soldier never gets over leaving his loved ones." He shook his head. "The guilt follows you. But if I may, I will relieve it a bit: we are all healthy, and happy knowing that you are where you are needed."

Mulan blinked back tears. "Thank you, Father."

It was all that needed to be said.

He cleared his throat. "Go, now, and see to your soldiers…those boys won't last a second in a real fight without your help. And…" he put a hand on her shoulder to prevent her leaving, "I bear a message from your Li Shang."

He brought forth a roll of fabric he had been carrying under his arm.

"He said to try on your cape to see if it fits…preferably in the privacy of your tent."

Mulan tilted her head interestedly. "Well, no one's paying any attention to us right now. I might as well…"

She and her father made their way back to her tent, Mulan entering and closing the flap behind her while Fa Zhou waited.

There was the sound of something dropping to the floor, and then a low gasp.

Almost instantly, Mulan reappeared beside her father, holding in her hand what had fallen out of the bundle of red fabric.

It was an ornament carved out of deep green jade, slotted at either end so that it would fit over a sword belt. The masterful curves portrayed a phoenix with wings bent back. Whatever genius had sculpted this had taken painstaking care to form each feather. The bird's profile showed one beautiful golden eye: enough for beauty, but insufficient for attracting an enemy's attention. The jade was a perfect match to her uniform.

Given from a man to a woman, it symbolized an inseparable bond.

"I wondered why he wasn't here to say good-bye," said Mulan so quietly she might as well have whispered.

It was several moments before she could trust herself to speak again. "I...I suppose he knew that you would want to see me before I left, and so he sent..." She looked around in bewilderment. "But after I joked with him about wearing it, I took the cape with me, and put it in my pack. How did he get…?"

"Bribed someone, probably," answered Fa Zhou. "It's common enough among the highborn sons." He examined the pendant. His eyes widened. "Mulan, this is fine jade indeed—worth a fortune."

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

He looked at her carefully. "Mulan," he said firmly. "You had better be serious about accepting the attentions of this man. He is not a demonstrative fellow, as I have seen, and you must mean a great deal to him. If you have no feelings for him, or have but will not act on them, you had better refuse his gift now, before he really suffers."

Mulan faced her father. "I won't give him a promise I may not be able to keep," she said. "He knows that; we spoke of it on our return journey. If he sees me wearing this, he'll think that my answer is yes." She hesitated. "Just tell him thank you, and I'll put it somewhere safe."

Nodding, perhaps disappointed, Mulan's father withdrew.

When no one could see her, Mulan took a used bowstring, cut it, and threaded the phoenix through it, tying it securely at the end. She tucked it carefully inside her clothing, letting it rest just over her heart. No one, least of all Shang, had to know it hung there.

She hoped, oh how she hoped, that she could truly reclaim the gift once this was all over.

* * *

"Put 'er there, old buddy!" said Ling as he tried to get Mulan to high-five him after the woman warrior returned to the camp. Mulan raised her own hand, but a very soused Ling missed it entirely and ended up tripping over his own feet as he ended up on the ground.

Mulan quickly helped him up.

"Set a good example for your men," she chided him. "Come, even Yao isn't as far gone as you."

"Only 'cause he can hold his liquor better!" Ling said in protest as Mulan fought to keep her friend upright. "Ask Chien-Po! Oh, CHIEN-PO!"

Chien-Po looked at him, irritated. "Will you stop, Ling? I have…business…to take care of tonight."

"Ahhh, you're no fun," said Ling. "Jus' like after Mad Mao's Homemade Ale! Remember, Yao? Heeheeheeheehee!"

Mulan and Yao glanced at each other.

"He's had enough," they both said together.

"I'll say," said Chien-Po.

"Oh, yeah," slurred Ling. "Mooooore than enough. Hey, Ping."

"Mulan," said Mulan equably.

"Yeah, right, Ping, I forgot that was your name. So, what'd you think about the ceramic thumb? We found it that night. 'Member, Yao?"

"The what?" asked Chien-Po and Mulan at the same time.

"You know, Chien-Po, ole pal. The thumb made of clay. Looked so…_real. _You were supposed to bring it to show Mulan! What happened to it?"

"Oh…uh…my bags got wet, and it was destroyed," said Chien-Po uncomfortably. "Excuse me."

He raced off like someone had set his shoes on fire.

"Yeah, a right thumb," Ling called after him. "Like someone had broken it right off. Only it was clay. An' a scar on it, too. Weird, huh? Who's the owner?"

Mulan's mouth could scarcely form the words. "A soldier…without a thumb."

_Lieutenant __Shueh!_

Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Sorry, Ling, I have to go!"

She hurried off after Chien-Po.

"What, is it something about my company?" asked Ling blissfully.

* * *

Seven and Mulan were both doing some very quick thinking back in their tents. On Seven's part, he was growing more and more sure that Mulan had somehow found out about him. Also, she had looked shocked when she heard about the thumb. She hadn't known it existed! _She_ couldn't have it…but someone close to her might.

Regardless, it was proof that he couldn't allow Mulan to have.

Seven realized that Mulan would have figured out his deception. But not until several seconds AFTER Mulan had realized that Seven would suspect _her_.

So when Seven strode into her tent, sword drawn, the trap was already laid.

"Yaaaaah!" yelped Seven as the tent suddenly collapsed on him. He was too big to pin down, but the several precious seconds he wasted trying to free himself meant that Mulan could deal him many damaging blows before he could even try to recover.

Thwack!

Seven nearly fainted as the blow caught him on the side of the head.

"Sorry to spoil your assassination attempt," said Mulan's voice from above the tangled mass of tent.

Bang!

She cracked a kneecap.

"HELP!" said Seven at the top of his voice.

This didn't deter Mulan.

"You're in the body of a friend, but this information could save hundreds of lives. I want to know, in this order, how many you are, where you are, and where you have laid the real Chien-Po."

His senses reeling, Seven still hung on to the one piece of information he had to barter with. "No, Fa Mulan. What you want to know _first _is what I've done with Mushu."

Abruptly, the rain of blows stopped.

_Haha, got her there, _thought Seven.

It was only then that he heard the second pair of footsteps.

He hadn't gotten to her. Someone else had.

"What is this racket?" squealed a high-pitched male voice. "I know you and your rabble-rousing compatriots love to brawl the night before you march, but this?"

"Chi Fu!" There was shifting above as Mulan tried to cover Seven up. "Stay out of this. It has nothing to do with that 'racket', or with you."

For answer, Chi Fu peeled back the ruined tent.

Seven crawled out, looking as pathetic as he could.

"She assaulted me," he whimpered. "Only because I said she wasn't doing her job right!"

Chi Fu's eyes glittered with malice. "Oh, really?" he said.

"Truly," said Seven. "I wouldn't lie about a woman that I once called friend."

It was worth a lot to see the look on her face. It was even better seeing the triumph of Chi Fu.

"Oh, the pampered girl soldier…the vaunted savior of China…she's finished! Ended!" Chi Fu waggled a finger in her face. "We'll see what the Emperor thinks of you now."

* * *


	10. Messages

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan_ or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

Chapter Ten: Messages

The abandoned tent had undergone a certain amount of alteration between when Chien-Po barged in on Mulan and when she'd been evicted by Chi Fu. The sides had caved in and parts of the sturdy cloth had been torn in the struggle. Most of it lay rumpled and still on the ground, but there was one part that moved.

"Mmph! MMPH!"

A small bulge in the material quivered. It then bounced up and down a few times, refusing to stay put.

Mushu scratched at the leather with fore and hindclaws, barely making a dent in the bag he was trapped in. Normally, a touch of his breath would have burned a hole through the bag, the tent, and possibly singed a few blades of grass outside.

The Chien-Po imposter had taken care of that, too.

No sooner had the spirit taken refuge from the funloving antics of his body's two pals than he had crept back into his tent and released his hold on Mushu. Mushu had been about to take a deep, triumphant breath when he felt the pouch open to admit a steady stream of black powder.

One wisp of a flame, and he would soar to new heights…but not in once piece.

It was a fact that he was acutely reminded of when he heard his captor clomping back after Mushu had struggled with the leather bag for a good half-hour.

"I hope you don't intend to play with fire, little dragon," said the once-timid voice of Chien-Po. His tone was so harmless and friendly, which made the words cut all the deeper.

Still, Mushu wasn't about to cringe at the sound of Chien-Po.

"Oh, fanTAStic," came the dragon's reply. "The one person that knows I'm a dragon the first time around happens to be the_ bad_ guy!"

"It's a gift; I'm what you would call…more in tune with these kinds of phenomena," said the spirit casually. "Now, don't go anywhere while I set my tent back up, or I may be forced to grind this gigantic foot right down on that little tail of yours."

He began carefully, meticulously, to set up the tent until it was as good as it had been before Mulan's unexpected entrance. Every so often, Mushu tried frantically to scurry out of the way of the giant's ponderous steps. At one point, the side of his shoe grazed the top of the sack. Always, though, the feet just missed him, not harming one single scale on Mushu's body.

It didn't take Mushu long to realize that it was deliberate. This man, whether or not he was in the body of Chien-Po, had the agility of a cat. He might even give Shang a run for his money.

_And he's not even the leader,_ Mushu thought gloomily. _I gotta find Mulan._

"Allow me to begin the introductions," continued the impostor in a voice of mild amusement. "My name, for now, is Seven. I heard you muttering to yourself before, so I know that you're Mushu."

The world spun briefly as Seven swung the bag up in the air and set it down again.

Even so, Mushu managed to get out, "So, that means there are six whole people ahead of ya? I _see. _Guess I should just call myself number one!"

Seven made a displeased sound deep in his throat. "I see you're eager to start this conversation. If such is the case, I'll lay down the terms. Along with a small trail of this marvelous powder."

There was the sound of someone hefting a sack, and then a light hiss, as of trickling sand.

"I don't expect you to like me, or even to refrain from insults. But you _will_ answer my questions. You see, after I say my piece, I'll light this very short trail of powder. In the time it takes the spark to reach the top of your pouch, you will have told me a useful answer. The moment you do, I'll stamp out the flame." His voice was encouraging. "I have no wish to set fire to my own tent, so the quicker you are to speak to me, the pleasanter this will be for us both."

"Look, you zombie or whatever you are, you must be dreamin' if you think I know about—" the dragon adopted a hoity-toity voice "—the exact numbers of the third regiment and the Imperial troop movements along the Great Wall, or any o' that nonsense. Short and sweet, I'm Mulan's guardian. That's my job. I answer to my own temple, not to the General or even the Emperor."

"Thank you, that was going to be my first question," responded Seven. "You see already how painless this is."

Mushu huffed indignantly, then hurriedly clapped his hands over his nostrils. He tried to push some of the powder a little farther away from him. It slid back in place immediately.

"So," Seven mused, "your first duty is to keep _her _safe. And, from what I remember of your conversation with," he sniggered, "_yourself_, you had something important to impart to her. Perhaps something that concerns her greatly? Your first allegiance being to her, your duty is to give her this knowledge at all costs. Which means that you would tell me everything you know about China that I could ask…if it meant I would let you go."

Pause.

"Which, of course, I will."

Seven cleared his throat.

"As I alluded to the black powder earlier, I think we'll start with that. Or rather, with what I would need to make more."

"More?" Mushu said. "Don't you know how to—" and then it hit him. "You don't! You've come back from waaaay back in the past, aintcha? All this cutting-edge technology is a bit too much for that primitive monkey brain o' yours!"

Mushu heard the click of flint striking.

Then the flame roared to life.

"It has sulfur?" Mushu said quickly. "Or else it naturally smells bad?"

"Not good enough."

"Salt—saltpeter? I think."

"You _think?_"

"Hey, I'm no alchemist! I just know how to light a cannon!" Mushu began to grow panicked…

…but with a grinding sound, Seven stamped out the flame.

The spirit sighed. So did the guardian.

"You really aren't that much good, are you," said Seven. "I could tell from your voice that you didn't know much. All right. You must know the accuracy of cannons, right? Since you claim to have lit one yourself?"

"Eh, now that you mention it, it was really more of Mulan's doing than mine…"

Seven struck a light.

For a moment, Mushu stopped pacing back and forth, and then smirked cunningly.

"They're there to spook horses," he said. "See, the Huns were all horsemen, and when Mulan fired her cannon, even Shan Yu himself couldn't keep control of his steed! No horsie, no fightie, see?"

He held his breath.

Stomp.

"Whew," he said to himself.

"And how far away was Mulan at that moment?" Seven badgered him.

Mushu didn't wait for Seven to flick another spark into existence. "Three feet. And she missed!"

Seven drew in a breath. "She was aiming at Shan Yu?"

"See, that's the thing about cannons. They sound big and bad, but they're really inaccurate! It flew into the mountainside by mistake, and that was how—"

Mushu pretended to be stricken.

"Oh, no! No, me an' my big mouth…"

Seven was practically slavering for Mushu to finish his sentence. "How what?"

Mushu cracked his knuckles. _And now, for the graaaand finale…_

"How it caused the avalanche."

At first, Mushu mistook the low sound in Chien-Po's throat for dismay. Then, as it grew louder, he realized it was the beginnings of a long, drawn-out bout of laughter.

"An accident?" said Seven. "Mulan saved China by sheer luck?"

Mushu nodded, although he knew Seven couldn't see him. "It was Shang who finished off Shan Yu later on top of the palace. Mulan had nothing to do with it, but Shang by then wanted everyone to think she was a hero so they'd spare her life, even though she was a woman. And she's not _stupid,_" he added for good measure. "She's really smart and sneaky…but the truth is, she's just not all that skilled yet. She's new at this war thing.

"Ya happy now?" he said, pretending to be outraged. "I'm a pretender! A nobody! I'm lower than dirt! Now let me out so I can save my girl from trouble!"

"If she really could fend for herself, she wouldn't need you so direly…you of all creatures," Seven said half to himself. "You were the one who helped her escape from Yumen Guan in that back alley. Guan told me himself of how fire sprang from nowhere! And when she and Li Shang finished of some of our finest souls—that was the general's doing, too, probably.

"Well," said Seven in a pleased voice, "I'm glad this conversation of ours has been so fruitful. I cannot of course, allow _you _to go free, but when I depart for the Imperial City, I'll turn my focus to places better suited to it than Mulan. And the knowledge of the cannon scare tactic—very useful."

Menacingly, Seven added, "And now, about the metal for your swords…"

If Mushu had had boots at the moment, he would certainly have been quaking in them. But there lies a resilience in even the tiniest spiritual guardian, and Mushu was just hitting his stride.

Mulan's guardian was scared of plenty of things while he roamed the world of mortals. But one thing he hated was _deliberately _being made to feel small and terrified.

And it had just occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, someone else could learn to feel that way.

On the third rasp of the flint, Mushu summoned up his "indestructible Mushu" voice and boomed out, "THUNDER GOD!"

Plunk!

The stone, very suddenly, left Seven's hands.

Within the short seconds of distraction, Mushu hopped away, propelling the sack just outside of the tent. With any luck—

_Chirp! Chirp!_

—he'd be discovered by the camp soldiers.

"Hey! What's that chirping sound?"

"It's coming from down there!"

Mushu's head spun as he was twirled high in the air.

"Hey, I wonder what's inside?"

"ENOUGH," said the false Chien-Po, striding out of his tent. "Or you'll be in trouble, just like Mulan i—oh, hello, friends."

_Maybe Cri-Kee really is lucky! Sounds like Seven's run into Yao and Ling!_

From the sound of it, Yao had clapped Chien-Po on the shoulder. "Hey, there, old buddy!" he said cheerily. "Haven't seen you around in a while." His voice had switched from good-natured to "knuckle sandwich."

"Yeah!" said Ling with false enthusiasm. "Saaaay, I heard you just had a run-in with Mulan."

"Whaddayaknow, Ling?" said Yao in pretend surprise. "I heard that, too!"

Mushu smirked from inside the sack.

"It seems she attacked you—what was the phrase Chi Fu used? 'Without reasonable provocation.'" Ling's voice dropped as he, too, clapped Chien-Po on the shoulder. "Were those your words, too? _Or were you too busy trying to save your stinking skin?"_

It would seem that the game was up.

Just as Mushu was ready to applaud, he heard Seven spur into a whirlwind of action. Mushu sensed a few hits being blocked, and then four sounds in a row like a mallet hitting meat. That was succeeded by two soft thumps as Yao and Ling hit the ground.

His tail twitched in agitation. Seven was a very good fighter.

"Oh, dear," said Chien-Po's voice. "Look at poor Yao and Ling, passed out on the grass just like the rest of the army camp. I think you two are suffering from an overdose of _spirits_. Isn't that unfortunate? Oh, well. I guess I'll have to enjoy my nightlong head start to the capital."

Mushu felt himself being picked up.

"Nice try," whispered Seven. "Yao and Ling were getting so suspicious that I had to incapacitate them, so I can't do any more damage here. And if the rest of the soldiers hadn't been in a similar state, I would have simply had to kill them, which would have destroyed my credibility completely. Of course, it would have destroyed the real Chien-Po, too. But still, it was almost a setback. "

In a few short minutes, Mushu found himself firmly ensconced in Seven's saddlebags. From what he had heard, at least Yao and Ling were alive, and he knew that the Imperial soldiers had one edge: for now, at least, only Seven knew of the black powder, and that only in a misinformed way.

The spirit kicked the horse into a headlong gallop.

"Mushu, I can almost hear you congratulating yourself in there," said Seven. "Don't. Four days from next sunrise, I'll be meeting Yumen Guan. Maybe you can explain yourself better to him."

* * *

One thing was sure about having to become an early riser: it left Mulan just grouchy enough to be a tough instructor as soon as she exited her tent. This was, of course, compounded by the fact that Chi Fu was nearly prancing with excitement over her supposedly accosting Chien-Po. He had made her wait just outside the tent the previous night while composing a long and no doubt overly thorough letter to the rest of the Emperor's counsels. Mulan did not doubt for a second that he looked forward to her removal from the army. She just hoped that she could prove herself a good enough captain to cling to her position. She was _not _going to resign.

When the unruly trainees were coaxed into something like a straight line the next morning, Mulan became even more steadfast in her resolve to stay. It was a curious thing. The recruits scarcely knew her, and half the knowledge they supposed was true about her conflicted sorely with the other half. There were only a few men who obeyed her instantaneously when she made them stretch and run laps. Certainly there was nothing that stood out as enjoyable. Unexpectedly…she _did _enjoy it. She felt at home among this gruff and ill-mannered crowd. After all, every complaint that she heard muttered under their breaths she had also experienced (though having too much sense to say anything) during her own training.

A few stragglers lagged at the end of the line when running, but Mulan stalled any forthcoming ribbing by reminding them that the exercise was just a warm-up.

"It is assumed that you all know at least how to mount up and control your horse's speed," Mulan announced sternly. "If you cannot do that much now, you will not be able to catch up with the rest of the group by the end of training. Don't give into bravado, here. If you cannot control your horse in the normal way now, then please leave and report to Sergeant Yao. He will instruct you along with the others. And I _will _notice if you're lying to me, so you're better off sparing yourself some humiliation."

Three men out of the fifty-odd recruits reluctantly left, casting dark looks in Mulan's direction, which she patiently ignored.

"First, we have to teach your horses and their riders to face shouting and unpleasant surprises," said Mulan. "A horse that isn't conditioned to survive a battle scenario will spook easily, likely taking its rider far away from his proper position in the ranks. As cavalrymen, you will need to focus your horse's energy into a quick charge, often hitting an infantry flank so that our foot soldiers can sweep in or be rescued when they're close to defeat."

"Uh, Captain," said a slightly nervous soldier. "What about fighting other cavalry?"

A few heads nodded in agreement.

Mulan raised an eyebrow. "That will come _last _in our training," she said. "I suspect by 'other cavalry' you want to relive a showdown with the Huns on this training ground?"

At this unnervingly accurate statement, the trainee hung his head.

"Then let me refresh your memory," said Mulan. "One, it will be some time before we see a threat from the Huns again, as we destroyed their entire army. Two, it will take _at least _that long to get you in any kind of fighting shape against them, horseman to horseman. The nomadic tribes to our north are practically born in the saddle, and certainly raised there. They know more about fighting from horseback than you likely ever will. You do not ever want to face a Hun on horseback one on one. There may come a time when you have to do just that, but let's start with managing the horses first."

The recruit nodded.

Mulan whistled for Khan and he came running, eyeing the line of rough men with obvious disdain.

"You will first teach your horses not to shy away at the first sign of an obstacle," said Mulan. "They may want to turn aside, but you cannot let them."

"What about facing a line of pikes or drawn swords?" smirked a man at the far end. "Surely the horses should shy away from _them_."

Mulan gave him a long look.

"Men!" she shouted abruptly. "Draw your weapons. Now!"

Uncertainly, the soldiers unsheathed their swords.

"Stand in a line, as straight as you can, swords outstretched."

The men obeyed with alacrity. After all, whatever Mulan had planned was bound to be exciting.

Mulan grabbed her own sword, mounted Khan, and turn the horse so that he was facing the men.

"CHARGE!" she cried fiercely, urging the indomitable black stallion towards the line of would-be soldiers.

Mulan didn't even have to worry about reining Khan to a stop in time. There is something about a quarter ton of muscle and pounding hooves charging in one's direction that makes one rethink such high notions as bravery and patriotism. Khan was many yards away when the last of the men had cleared the area in panic.

"As you may have noticed, it is quite difficult to stand your ground against a moving horse, no matter how long your weapon is. Mind you, there was only one horsewoman facing you—imaging holding your ground against hundreds. Only the best-trained infantry can form a solid line against cavalry—and a solid line is what it takes. If there are even a few gaps, the horses can charge right through and even pikes won't stop them."

Thing hadn't quite gone according to her lesson plan, but the undeniable fact was that the men were listening to her much better and keeping their attention on her longer than they had done before.

Mulan dusted herself off briskly after her dismount.

"Right," she said. "For now, we'll go with an easy scenario—a bandit ambush. Half of you will walk your horses right alongside the tree line near the camp. The other half will hide behind the foliage, ready to spring out and surprise the horses. Don't be afraid of making noise! And for those riding this morning, always remember that your horse will feel your fear, if you let it show through enough. I'm calling in Yao and Ling before they march out, and we three will stand on the other side with bows and arrows, firing shots over your heads as you pass. Each horse will make the trip until he is calm enough not to rear up. And most importantly," Mulan finished, "keep alert to who is in front of you. Some of your horses may very well throw you, if not now, than in a future practice regimen. When that happens, the man behind him MUST keep his horse in check and clear of the fallen comrade."

And so it went, with the two groups taking turns, with not so much as a hair of Yao or Ling to be seen. More than tired of waiting, Mulan dispatched a man to discover their whereabouts.

At lunchtime, Mulan skipped the soup line and went to look for her messenger, who, it turned out, had been looking for her.

"You should see this yourself, Captain."

Yao and Ling lay motionless on the ground. They were both snoring.

"Yao, Ling! Oh, never mind," said Mulan in disappointment. "Recruit, help me drag them to their tents. It wouldn't do for the men to seem them this way."

She ate her lunch alone that day, and in silence. Perhaps this was how Shang felt every day.

Some time later, Mulan was leading Khan to the lake by Wu Zhong when a parsimonious voice said behind her, "Ah, there you are, Acting Captain."

Mulan squared her shoulders. "I think you'll find that my promotion is a permanent one. Do we have business to discuss?"

"Unfortunately," snipped the counsel. "While my friends at court have not reached a final decision as to your status as captain, there_ is_ a punishment acceptable in such circumstances as your unprovoked attack on your fellow officer."

Too jumpy to prolong the suspense, he unrolled a scroll longer than Mulan was tall. "In the even of a, ahem, dispute, the injured party may ask for appropriate remuneration." Chi Fu's eyes were gleaming with satisfaction. "Acting as the advocate of Chien-Po, I have decided to impound your horse."

Mulan started. Her _horse?_

"Chi Fu," Mulan broke in, "Surely you understand that the general ordered me—"

"Your orders do not concern me, woman. Preserving order in this camp does. Now, you may leave your confiscated animal in the last stall in the north stables, where my servant will transport it to—"

Mulan grabbed the regulations out of his hands. "This time, you've bitten off more than you can chew," she said. "When the Emperor hears of this—"

"Do you honestly think the Emperor has nothing better to do than to supervise your untimely plummet through the Imperial Army? Control yourself, Acting Captain. You will bring your horse to the stables, where it will be sent to Chien-Po posthaste."

_To Chien-Po? __No, never!_

An icy feeling gripped her heart at the thought of leaving Khan to the tender mercies of Seven.

"I refuse," she said stoutly.

"Then you resign," said Chi Fu, folding his arms across his chest.

In denial, the new captain turned away and marched back to the lake, patting Khan worriedly. The horse nickered softly, sensing her concern.

Mulan had made up her mind. Seven had gotten Mushu. He wasn't getting Khan, too.

Suddenly, Khan's head came up and he sniffed the air, then blew out as if not liking what he found.

Curious, Mulan leaned closer and asked him what was the matter. In response, Khan shifted away from the thick stand of trees to their left.

To Mulan's complete shock, there came an answering equine challenge.

Khan dug into the ground with one hoof. Suddenly, the bamboo boughs shifted aside and an enormous black horse charged toward Khan.

Where such a terror had come from, Mulan didn't know. She could tell right away, though, that they were both dominant stallions, and to put it mildly, indisposed to get along.

If it had been just nature against nature, Khan might well have lost. But he had been trained well. He allowed the stallion to chase him back onto open ground: the training field. In the few minutes before Mulan caught up with him, panting, the green-eyed horse had reared up, flailing about with his hooves, and caught the bigger horse several blows in the chest. The latter tried to retaliate, but wasn't accustomed it.

Such a contest wasn't meant to be lethal, and the other horse quickly backed off, looking as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.

What could she do? Well…she did have an idea.

"And that, men," said Mulan, as if nothing at all were the matter, "is why we train our steeds the way we do." Not one to refuse an opportunity when she saw it, Mulan added, "Once the larger horse calms down, please escort him to the north stables. Make sure to put him in the last empty stall."

_An impostor Khan for an impostor Chien-Po, _Mulan thought.

Seven might be bewildered, at first, but he was a horsemaster if ever Mulan had seen one. He would know immediately that the huge beast was not Khan, and Mulan would bet that, having no use for the animal, Seven would be inclined to accept it and care for it, for it truly was a commodity.

For a brief moment, Mulan wondered whether she had ever seen that horse anywhere before. Its lack of saddle and bridle made it harder to identify.

Well, that problem could wait. The lunch hour was almost over.

In the afternoon, Mulan ordered them to lay down large sacks of sand at random intervals and practice navigating their way across the altered terrain. It was an ugly fact, but the horses had to be taught to ignore dead bodies, as well.

Chi Fu had obviously concocted his earlier idea to put Mulan out of commission as a trainer. After the unnamed black horse was sent away, Chi Fu saw her training with Khan and was so indignant that it looked like he would burst. Since all records showed that a horse had been walked to the location he requested, and that horse matched the description of Khan, it would be a long time (and much paperwork) before he would be able to make head or tail of it. Her growing popularity in the ranks also meant that public humiliation was out of the question.

Still, Mulan analyzed his snide half-glances and realized that he wouldn't keep the peace for long.

* * *

Chirp! Chirp!

Mushu twiddled his claws in frustration. A second later, he had to stifle a sneeze as an object hopped on the part of the pouch near his snout.

"Hey, Cri-Kee! Any chance of a prison break?"

Apparently, there wasn't.

"Well, you could at least tell me where I am. All of these sticks keep jostlin' me as we ride."

A more emphatic chirp.

"Not sticks? Then what are they?"

Mushu tried to feel them through the leather pouch, but without success. Impatiently, he kicked out as one of the "sticks" caught him over the kneecap, and the sound it made jolted him out of his self-pity.

"They're scrolls," he said in realization. "Probably dispatches. We-e-ell," and he rubbed his claws together, "looks like Seven decided I'd make the best guard for his vital information. Tell me, Cri-Kee, what do these babies have to say?"

It turned out that Seven was carrying three separate versions of a single edict, all bound with different colors of ribbon in order to distinguish one from the other. One copy was going to the Emperor, one to General Li, and one to Marshal Guo. The Emperor's copy stated that General Li was being mildly disruptive in preparing for possible battle out west, and there was a recommendation that he be kept within the Imperial City, under observation. Li Shang's directive was to tell Fa Mulan to cease training the troops and move out with the rest of the army. And the one to Marshal Guo…contained the very information Mushu had been trying to smuggle to Mulan for the past several days.

Well, it didn't take a genius to figure out what to do with these orders.

"Hey, Cri-Kee, tell me somethin'. Do all the scrolls look the same?"

Cri-Kee answered in the negative. Apparently, the scroll for the emperor was written on rice paper, whereas the other two were made of bamboo.

"PreCISEly what I was hopin' for. Now perk up those ears—what do MEAN you don't have any—okay, those _auditory organs_ (little pest)—and do exactly as I say. I want you to switch the orders for General Li and Marshal Guo. Got it? Don't tell me those things are heavy! I'm one cough away from blowin' sky high, over here!"

Chirp!

"Hey, where'd you learn that word? You're lucky there're no ladies present!"

* * *

Yumen Guan's tread was sure and heavy, not only measuring each step as he went along, but savoring it. The meeting place for his rendezvous with Seven was bereft of any natural formation—all open grass, not even a boulder to be found. In mock-salute to the Imperial army, he ground a flag's staff into the ground for a marker. The sheet of red and gold snapped in the high wind, but Yumen Guan kept one steady hand on it.

"Well, Mama," whispered the spirit, "we shall have a very direct summary of events from Seven in a few minutes' time. I wonder how well things went at Wu Zhong, I really do. Most of the leftover Imperials from Shan Yu's devastation are out of the way, tracking west like the bunch of simpletons they are. Remember when you used to sneak pictures of maps to me out of Father's drawer? I always liked the thought of that country, by the Jade Gate Pass. The corridor into China."

He turned his burning gaze east, sight grazing against some unseen obstacle. "Not many weeks left until the Festival of Ghosts. We'll make our own corridor count for something then, yes? In the east, where our seeds were once sown, where the souls now sleep."

The images in his mind were so very clear.

A horse's rider was hailing him over the deceptively short distance. Seven was not his usual upbeat self, Guan could tell just from the gesture. He hoped the man he had slated for promotion had not undercut his own efforts.

Seven was not a confidante. Not a friend. Yumen Guan had no favorites.

"Honored Leader." Seven bowed perfunctorily.

"Out of sorts, Seven?"

Guan's cohort grimaced. "Blasted horse all but took off my leg when I first tried mounting him. Don't worry. I give it a week before he's entirely tame."

"I don't doubt it. Now, the news?"

"Mulan is being chastised back in the army camp. She tried to stop me from doing my duty to my General," and Seven assumed a pout that he obviously thought would amuse his superior. "Don't worry, liege. A notice to the effect that she assaulted me is on its way to Xi'an. That, coupled with some earlier mark on her record of which I've only heard whispers, may be enough for the army to disown her and her ideas."

"Bad news up front, Seven."

Seven heaved a short sigh. "I see you still read expressions well."

"Only because you still remember how to make them."

"Shueh—that tracker, you remember?—he broke off his own thumb in some absurd act of defiance, and we don't know where it is. On the bright side, neither does Mulan. It could possibly used as evidence of our presence here. I recommend, sir, that we tell all of our contacts in the capital to execute a thorough search and seizure. And, best of all," he squeezed a large pouch that he held aloft, "I captured her guardian. He involuntarily told me much about the new technology, the cannon, and of our adversary."

"Hmm," said Yumen Guan. "And now, having that information, do you feel better or worse about our situation?"

Seven smiled through his speech. "Oh, very much better." He proceeded to give Yumen Guan a very exact recitation of his most recent activities as Wu Zhong.

"The odds in our favor grow higher, considering Mushu's…testimony," Seven smiled broadly.

Yumen Guan nodded sagaciously. "Oh, I completely agree, Seven. Such words from this creature are not to be overlooked."

His easy manner froze instantly. "And since at this moment a miniscule dragon has played you for a fool, how do you propose to separate out the clean information from the sullied?"

Seven had only enough time to draw breath before Yuem Guan's arm shot out and grasped the sack.

"Give him to me," he said. "You don't know what you're doing with him."

"But General," Seven protested, "everything he said makes sense! Mulan's behavior, his own involvement, the cannons—"

Yumen Guan used his free hand to grab Seven by the collar of his shirt. "Do you know why the warriors we have are so very brave when the time calls for it?" he said. "Even when I order them to die? It is because even though our bodies, such as they are, feel real pain, our souls are not used to the _idea _of it. We think, 'Oh, this may hurt,' and we may be afraid, but we've been without real corporeal pain for so much time that the concept doesn't terrify the way it once did."

"I don't see where you—"

"_Imagine, _Seven, that you are a creature that not only has not experienced pain in a long while, but has NEVER had to be really human, really solid, for more than a season over the endless stretch of centuries. He may jump three feet, or yell out in terror, but pain does not grip him deep in the heart's core, loosening his overly long tongue."

Seven look shocked. "Are you saying he fed me lies, even trussed up in a sack of explosive powder?"

"It's what you would have done, isn't it?"

Unafraid of the consequences, Yumen Guan released the leather strap that bound the bag and shook Mushu and the powder into the palm of his hand.

"General, no!" Seven protested. "Without the gunpowder he'll—"

"Useless!" spat Yumen Guan, holding Mushu disdainfully by the tail. "You know what should have been done. He should have died when he tried to escape, yet you brought him to me!"

The little dragon grasped his chance at freedom and rocketed out of the sack, propelling himself up Yumen Guan.

Yumen Guan stood perfectly still. It was crystal clear to him that Mushu was going to use Yumen Guan's own form as protection.

In response, Yumen Guan wrenched his sword from its sheath.

"If it does not deal with us, it must deal with the Jade Emperor."

_Death to those who lie to Yumen Guan._

Apparently realizing what this meant, the creature named Mushu drew in a breath.

"I will not flinch at fire, worm—or fail to slice off my own arm if you are on it."

Swish!

With a dazzling elegance, and a slicing of skin from his own shoulder, Yumen Guan pried Mushu off his stolen body and flung the dragon to the ground.

He raised his sword again, and his thrust was as clean as if it clove through silk.

There was an intense flash of light, and the smell of incense. Seven stepped back, trembling.

Yumen Guan closed his eyes in disappointment.

"You tried to gain my favor by bringing home a prize, in lieu of being the strong right arm that I need. You're going back to Yu-Wen to guard our investment in that town. I won't promote you. Not until you've shown that you have initiative as well as obeisance."

"I killed Bao Ssu!"

"Because you were entirely certain it would please me. There was no real risk to what you did."

"Then who will go—"

"Two is on his way to the Imperial City," said Yumen Guan tonelessly. "He's going without my express orders, of course, but he's doing the job I want done, all the same. He has enough pride to be absolutely pitiless."

For a moment, Seven slitted his eyes like a snake.

"Seven," said Guan, and opened his eyes. "If you'd really meant what that look says, it would have been your weapon, not mine, that was unsheathed."

_And he stared back._

Seven couldn't help but mount his horse, and gave it a few short strokes with his riding crop. He couldn't face his general, not now. If Yumen Guan had stared through closed eyelids, Seven would still have fled. That gaze was tipped with poison.

Seven rode off as if he were on the verge of being lanced through the back.

Where Mushu had been, there were only tendrils of smoke curling around a long, white blade.

* * *

"Yaaaaaaaah!"

Mushu's spirit tumbled this way and that, certain that it was all over for him. Being killed on a mission meant that he couldn't go back to his home temple. He'd be swept to the heavens, and have to face a formal inquest about how he came to be this way. If he were lucky, he'd see Mulan again…as he watched wistfully from far above her. Return as a guardian to anyone, ever? Very unlikely.

To cheer himself up in an almost impossibly cheerless situation, he reminded himself that the killing stroke had been so swift, he hadn't really felt it. Also, he could now one-up Fa Dang. ("At least that was only his head!")

But halfway through this morose contemplation, someone intervened.

Mushu was caught in an updraft, which delivered him to a large hand's gentle grip. Well, gentle, considering its strength.

The spirit-Mushu looked up and saw Thunder God.

A coming storm rolled across the skies, but it was almost genial. It was sometime before Mushu could come to grips with the situation, but Thunder God was…laughing.

"You're not quite gone, little one," said Thunder God. "You, after all, are no mortal."

Mushu quirked an insubstantial eyebrow. "Shouldn't I be goin' to see the Jade Emperor?"

"Yes, but I caught you first. It was not right, your death, but I must say I'm glad it happened."

"Well, gee, thanks," grumbled Mushu. "Love you too, man."

"Don't you see, little one? Your being here makes it possible for me to strike back." He gave a great shake of his head. "I should never have taken a mortal idea, like the Qin Emperor's clay men, and built a curse around it. Yumen Guan has abused that power which I gave her. Now, I cannot take away her gift without killing those innocents that she possesses. But," he gave an imaginary Yumen Guan a nasty smile, "I can give a counter-gift. To you."

He touched Mushu's eyes, and they glowed with a golden light.

"Congratulations. You now have the ability to see which people have been possessed and which have not. It should help those bungling mortals down there."

Mushu tentatively felt over his eyes. "Wow! I must say, this is a little better than what I thought would—"

His mind ground to a halt, stayed completely still for a good five seconds, and then started back up again at a frantic speed.

"The power you gave **HER**?!"

"Yes, of course," said Thunder God.

"But wasn't he—I mean, she—I mean, the body—"

"Listen, rice-for-brains," said Thunder God impatiently, "I gave her and her followers the ability to take human form. ANY human form. The last I looked, women and men fall equally into that category. Seven could take on the form of a kitchen maid, or a courtesan, though he is originally male, just as he could possess a tall person, when he was originally short! Yumen Guan, as she now names herself, can call on the muscle memory of her soldierly impersonation, but she is and will always be, a woman."

Mushu whistled. "Do any of her soldiers know?"

Thunder God chuckled. "Oh, no, I wouldn't risk them rebelling against her and complicating things for me. I want them all on the same side at the end, and then _I want them all_."

The clouds trembled at his voice.

"Besides," said Thunder God equably, "my wife enjoys the joke."

Lightning crackled agreeably only feet away.

"She was young when her family—a good family—sold its land," the immortal explained. "That's why I pitied her above other men. Most are dead when their ancestral lines vanish. But she was there, and alive, when they emptied her family's shrine into the well. She watched, when her husband wasn't looking, while the Guan land changed hands, when the first stones of the new shrine were set up. She couldn't help it. She had married into another family."

Thunder God yawned, which meant Mushu was nearly sucked into a vortex of whirling wind.

"Now, little guardian, I am dropping you off right where you belong."

"In our shrine?"

"Exactly. Mulan will need you to be with her when she faces the army that Yumen Guan hopes to reincarnate."

"An army?" Mushu wrinkled his nose. "But Yumen Guan has, what, several dozen souls with her? Cri-Kee read me the report! It's not all that bad."

"For now, she has only the souls whose clay likenesses were cracked a bit, waking them prematurely. But the Festival of Ghosts is drawing near. The mortal and spirit worlds will draw close, and Yumen Guan will be able to awaken all the others."

Mushu's eyes widened. "All the what? The who?"

"The other souls captured in clay, that wait below the land of the Baos. The others, who stayed with their clay counterparts instead of finding their way home." Thunder God looked down at the land reminiscently. "They inspired the special power I gave to Yumen Guan. And they are not several dozen, but several…_thousand_…souls."

All of a sudden, Mushu was spiraling downward through the air.

He yelled as loudly on entering the mortal world as he had leaving it. This time, at least he had something to think about on the way.

* * *

A week later, Tang finished packing up his inkwell and brushes methodically, if for no other reason than to escape the commotion in the corridor.

He had done well in the exam, although it hadn't stopped him from staying up half the night the previous evening, wondering what position they would offer him. He was usually circumspect in his praise and liberal with his criticism, but that didn't mean he refused to take his tasks seriously. If that were true, the masters would have carefully shuffled his papers, hem-hemmed, and assigned him to a not-too-embarrassing position, simply because of his position in the Li family.

Tang shook his head at his own tense demeanor. At this rate, it wouldn't be long until he started turning into his brother.

"Where is it?"

"Search every room, every closet!"

All right, that did it. Tang's door banged open as he found himself having to look out to make sense of the scene.

It wasn't simply that Imperial soldiers were ransacking every room they could find—or that they kept calling out to each other places where whatever they sought might be. It was that these men were not the low-level drones that were usually tasked on search and seizure. They were all of enviable rank, and seemingly bent on using whatever of it they could to find a certain lost item.

"How long was it again?"

"Just average size, our General said."

"Yes. And we don't want the Emperor to lay eyes on it, do we?"

"Hey, you! Seen a life-sized clay…object…around? Part of a hand?"

Tang could not have been more astonished if an arrow had caught him in the chest.

He banged the inkwell back down on the desk and rushed for his pack. Opening it, he made sure the intact piece of ceramic was still there. So. Somewhere along the line, this piece had caused quite a bit of trouble. Since he supposed it was Mulan's, he really shouldn't have been surprised. And now that the army was looking for it…

He quietly closed the door.

Shang had sent several urgent letters to him, all sealed twice and containing all the information his older brother suspected. Tang had half-wondered if the pressures of command were getting to Shang before, with his allusion to ghosts and lookalikes. Now, it was a different game altogether.

It might have just been Tang's nature, but he disliked entrusting anything so special to a subordinate. He would go right to the root of things and take this up with this brother. In the meantime, he unwrapped the thumb, went to one of the latticed windows of his room, and pushed the thumb outside and onto the dirt below.

"What are you doing here?" asked a disgruntled voice somewhere down the hall.

"Search his quarters!"

Two soldiers had barged into the room two doors down.

Tang folded his arms across his chest. There was just the matter of waiting.

He didn't have long.

When the footfalls told him that his door was about to be jerked off its hinges, Tang politely opened it and faced the prospective searcher with a placid manner.

"Hello…Captain Wan, isn't it?" he said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've seen you before," said Wan, searching his face until he was sure. "Li Shang's brother, yes?"

"Yes," said Tang, pretending vast ignorance of the uneasy feeling the captain exuded. "There was a banquet, some time ago…"

"I've come to search your rooms."

"You may not."

"I'll take this up with your brother."

"I'm sure he'll be happy to get hold of you. But," and Tang dropped all pretense, "the thumb is staying with me."

Captain Wan lunged at him, and Tang used Wan's momentum to throw the soldier back-first into the wall.

"Oh, good," said Tang. "I don't have to try to gauge whether or not _you're _taken."

With an angry snarl, Captain Wan looked right and left. Not seeing the thumb in plain sight (_As if it would be_, thought Tang), he drew his sword.

"There are others waiting to collect you, Li Tang, until the proper time."

"You really are a wandering spirit," said Tang in awe. "Shang's told me about what he suspected." Despite himself, Tang couldn't help but feel a little thrill at having someone step right out of history in front of him.

"And did Li Shang say _how_ we wander?" asked Captain Wan, grinning ferally.

Tang gave his head a single shake. "But now, I believe," he said slowly, "it has something to do with that little clay article you're searching for."

Wan nodded in satisfaction. "It's what we are, before we possess you. You might as well give up, Li Tang, and tell me where it is. We'll keep searching your room. And I've already been to your house. I came," he sneered, "through the back, on the day that Seven murdered the Bao child."

"Over the blind wall?" said Tang. "Impressive."

"You have an impressive house. It reminds me of something I've forgotten, long ago."

The captain poised himself for another fight.

An instinct kicked in at that moment for Tang. It wasn't fight-or-flight. It was simple human curiosity.

"Tell me your name, please. Your real name."

More footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Captain Wan smiled as he heard the prospective reinforcement. "I am second in command. I am slotted for Marshal after Guan becomes Emperor."

"I didn't asked for your _rank,_" said Tang specifically. "I want to know your name, your history. Why come back to this world, if not to be remembered?"

Captain Wan inclined his head in the smallest gesture of grudging respect. "I _don't _remember. I know I was high ranking, that I was born in the year of the Ox, I had three wives, and…" he squinted. "Our family's sign on our door. There was a dragon, a four-clawed dragon on a carved handle, plated with bronze. One, no, two handles, yes, that was it. And," he looked significantly at Tang, "I was a very good fighter."

Tang's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Yes, you would be," he said. "It runs in the family."

Captain Wan frowned. "What family?"

"Yours," said Tang, almost in reverence, "and mine."

Captain Wan stared at, almost through, Tang.

At that moment, their visitor appeared behind him. It was not another lost soul. It was Shang.

"Come through the front door next time," said Tang, as his brother brought a large scroll to bear on Wan's skull.

* * *

Under the circumstances, Tang should have been relieved, but one look at Shang and he knew the situation wasn't good. His elder brother was decked out in full battle regalia—helmet, armor—Tang was half expecting Shang's horse to show up.

That, and Tang was still reeling from an eerie sense of nearly having fought one of his own ancestors.

"I've been looking for you," said Shang conversationally. Obviously, he hadn't overheard the previous dialogue. "I've rounded up those men who can still be trusted, and have put them to work making sure the Emperor is guarded day and night. I trust that by now you believe me?"

"I do, or rather, did," said Tang. "But now, I think I need to make sure that you're still the Shang I grew up with." He folded his arms across his chest. "Why not say something I'd know you to say, just for the sake of entertainment?"

"It's a good idea," said Shang, fiddling with the scroll self-consciously. "Well, you know that recently I've become very attached—"

"If you say the name Mulan, I swear I'll clock you."

"Tang!"

"Oh, good, it really is you. I don't think even a good impersonator could blush _that _much."

"Should've let him start a real fight with you," Shang muttered, casting a look at the prone Captain Wan. "Oh! Here, take this scroll. It contains important information about the village of Yu-Wen."

"Yu-Wen? Sounds familiar," said Tang, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Shang gave him a sardonic smile. "But you said you'd clock me if I—"

"Oh, good _grief! _All right, all right, I'll take the scroll, no questions asked. I ride back now, is that it? Can't you pay a messenger?"

"No. This has to come from you. I can't confide in anyone else."

Shang pressed the scroll into his brother's hands.

"I'm going to see the Marshal immediately. Your job, and it is an _order_, is to deliver this scroll to the Emperor in the few minutes you have left here in the city. Then saddle up, as quickly as you can, and give another message to Mulan."

"Wait, I'm not giving Mulan the scroll?"

"There's only one copy."

"And no time to make another." Tang whistled. "You're right; it must go to the Emperor."

"Tang…" Shang took off his helmet. "I suspect that the military has been compromised beyond what we have expected or dreaded. You see, I don't know who this scroll is from, or why it says what it does, but the information coincides too well with what I've suspected for weeks to be a fabrication. Now, listen here. You _must_ reach Fa Mulan. Tell her, so that she knows it comes from the real me…tell her that I'm sorry about abandoning her at the Tung Shao Pass."

Tang nodded, knowing there was more. "And?"

Shang faced away from his brother, directing his ironclad stare at the window facing the palace. "Tell Mulan to go home."

He removed his helmet, looked at it pensively for a moment, then handed it to Tang. "She may take this…but she must. Go. Home."

Shang started to explain this further, but other soldiers were approaching. With one last nod, he disappeared down the hallway. Tang had just enough time to run outside and grab the thumb. It, too, must go to the Emperor, and with all haste.

The babble in the hall had risen to a shout. Tang wanted to help his brother, but there was no time. Fearing he would be recognized on horseback, Tang instead made his way on foot to the heart of the Imperial City.

* * *

The riders got better in the two and a half weeks Mulan had with them. Most of them had already known the rudiments of horsemanship, but getting the mounts accustomed to battle was another thing entirely. _You must blunt your urge to panic in battle_, Mulan told them constantly, but it was not so easy to make them see that they might _ever_ panic.

How much better she understood Shang now that she had a taste of command.

The horses were now used to all sorts of obstacles, unexpected forms leaping out at them, and the smell of fire and smoke and black powder. Mulan was just starting to train the men to help their horses lash out against an enemy on foot.

Meanwhile, Mulan kept up with her personal work-out: the kicks, throws, and jabs that Shang had taught her. She protected her body with her training, from toes to throat. The lethal moves were less kind on her psyche, as she couldn't avoid thinking of actually using them on someone. Killing at a close range was something still new to Mulan, and she had never killed with only her hands.

As the tension mounted in the camp, such musing began to matter less and less. She attacked invisible enemies every night now, sometimes getting on (or more) recruits to fight her, just to become that much better.

It scared her, how much she would have to improve in order to keep not only the captaincy, but her respectability as a soldier. She wasn't fooling herself. Her stunt with the black horse had postponed what was sure to be an ugly confrontation.

And then, two weeks and three days before the Festival of Ghosts, the expected blow fell and nearly crushed her. The human hammer of justice was not nearly as discerning as that of Thunder God.

Chi Fu called the whole troop out, just so that everyone could see it. A very angry-looking Chien-Po was beside him.

"Mulan," said the impostor. "Because of your unwarranted attack on me as well as your other deficiencies, I am taking over as captain."

Mulan felt herself going numb.

"By order of the council, you are hereby demoted. You have not behaved according to your station, and the council finds you unfit to be of service to the Emperor."

Chi Fu would have ripped the cape from her shoulders if he'd had the strength, but settled for demanding her helmet. "You no longer have rank…and you are no longer in the Imperial army."

* * *


	11. Three Paths

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan_ or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

Note: Just to avoid confusion, let me remind everyone that Guan is Yumen Guan's surname, even though in China the family names come first. This is because "Yumen Guan" is not her real name, just an alias she uses. We don't yet know what her real first name is.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Three Paths

Night lay thick across the streets of Xi'an. The wind scooped up the torrents of rain and sloughed them on every wall, through every crevice it could reach. The storm clouds clenched and bulged in fury: one could almost feel trapped beneath the open sky, while the lightning tore down from those clouds and pinned a man down like an insect.

Shang was thankful, this once, that he didn't have his metal helmet with him. It was knowing what that storm meant that rattled him.

Finding no sign of Marshal Guo in the barracks or officers' quarters, Shang had been forced to follow Tang's route to the palace. He now tramped across the forsaken courtyard, feeling no better than a foreigner as he approached the looming steps to the Emperor's dwelling. How glad he was that Tang had arrived earlier; His Majesty might yet be safe.

The area was not quite abandoned. There were two men in red, standing almost like statues, perfectly content to ignore his existence until Shang tried the steps to the palace. As he passed them on either side, they brought out their mallets and rang the two gongs at the entrance.

What was this? Those two shouldn't have been here, not when the whole space was empty. The gongs were for times of celebration or ceremony.

From all that Shang's eyes told him, the palace was as dark as the sky. It seemed blind.

Shang turned to the right upon entering and sought one of the rooms where he would be briefed, assuming the Marshal would meet him there. He had taken two steps forward, when instinct told him that he had passed over something vital.

He turned back.

If the Emperor had gotten Tang's message, he would have left by now.

Yet there were new guards by the doors of the Imperial throne room.

"Tang, you had better get that message to Mulan," Shang said under his breath. He put one hand on his sword. He had never approached the royal throne armed before, but whoever was in there was surely no emperor.

He might have to fight the two men at the entrance. Drawing himself up to his fullest height, Shang walked purposefully towards the closed crimson doors.

Immediately, the two guards bowed and stood aside.

"The Marshal will see you, General Li," intoned the one on the right.

Shang looked from the impassive guard to the closed doors. "The Marshal? In the throne room?"

"The Marshal will see you now," repeated the guard on the left.

Shang knew now that something was dreadfully wrong, but he only nodded to both of them coldly. They, in turn, opened the door to the dark.

Any hint of lantern or light from the outside world had been blocked. There was only the tiniest flare emanating from either side of the throne, and smoke moved around him like water. Shang inhaled and caught the scent of incense.

Two royal censers had been placed on either side of the throne. Between them, Shang was sure there was a form.

"Greetings, General," said Marshal Guo from the Emperor's seat. "You may bow, Li Shang."

Shang froze.

The worst thing was, it really was his voice. A memory flashed before Shang's eyes, unimpeded by visual distraction. Shang had been six, and his father had invited an honored guest for dinner. He would never forget that straight-backed, tall figure, with its lean oval face and intensely black eyes. The Marshal had been gruff then, although more attentive towards Shang than tradition demanded.

"Out of respect for the man whose body you stole, I will bow," said the general. He did so, and then drew his sword.

"You will kill him, too," said Yumen Guan.

"No, Yumen Guan. You have as good as done that already. You force this choice on me, but at least now, he'll be at peace. It's what I would have wanted."

"I'll keep that in mind, when it's your turn."

Shang heard him stand up.

"Not so long to the Festival of Ghosts," said the spirit.

Shang raised his fighting arm.

"I am the start of a new dynasty, the corridor through which all spirits will enter. Fall in line, sir, and _drop your sword_."

Slash!

Shang overbalanced.

Nothing.

Shang sensed a presence to his right. Then he heard Guan draw his own blade.

Shang swung just in time to block the blow, returned with one of his own. He whirled around, blocked a strike behind him, swung again to Guan's right—

Gone again!

Guan dropped his sword low, inviting a swing. Shang wisely backed away, onto the step beside the throne. Shang breathed, once twice, and from a better height thrust again.

Swish!

Shang's sword sliced through silk, but hit only a rib. Guan hissed, swung low, beat Shang's blade right, left. He slid his own blade along Shang's—Shang retreated, a hair too late.

"Ahh!"

Shang set his teeth. The Hun arrow scar had reopened.

With blood on his blade, Yumen Guan went again. He struck high, snarled as he was foiled, and charged for the center of Shang's chest.

Clang!

Disarmed.

Shang went in carefully, blood hot and tired of games—

Yumen Guan sprang, flipped over Shang's head, and landed perfectly on his feet on the highest stair.

Shang tried to turn, and Yumen checked his sword arm, wrenching it until the sword dropped from Shang's hands. Shang got in one kick at Guan's knee. Guan leapt forward, ducked low, twisted behind Shang and hit between Shang's shoulders.

Guan backtracked, turned aside a jab at his chin, and caught hold of the censer. Shang moved in, but stumbled as a flurry of hot ash hit his face. Guan struck again at the shoulder, again at the knee, and Shang faltered off the top step.

Guan followed him down, keeping as close as he could. Their reaches were even, but now Shang was defending from below. Guan raised his hands for a crushing head blow, but Shang held onto one arm.

Shang swung Yumen Guan around, Guan's punch going wide, and kicked Guan's feet out from under him. Shang let go—Guan reeled. Shang struck either side of Guan's neck, struck Guan's head, and used all his strength to shove the other man away. With a groan of defeat, Guan went tumbling down the steps.

Shang felt on the ground for his weapon, but was stopped by Yumen Guan's laughter.

"Well fought…my friend," gasped Yumen Guan. "I think I may lose consciousness before long. It's a good thing I'll be in your body, shortly."

Shang eyed the shadow with contempt.

"I see you don't understand defeat," he said. "Let me teach you."

He prepared for a final charge at the villain.

"When you clasped my arm, didn't you notice?" said Guan, still deadly, even lying on the floor. "I touched you also, General Li Shang. Feel your forearm, and say I lie."

Shang frowned in consternation. Slowly, aware of any move that Yumen Guan might make, Shang slid one hand to feel the lower part of his arm.

His fighter instincts hadn't warned him against it. They had told him to avoid the sword, to rush at the enemy, when to back off and when to pursue.

He hadn't noticed the spot of wet clay Yumen Guan had placed there.

"I'm never far from the earth of Guan. And I believe that _I _have won."

Shang's sword lay on the ground, untouched, inches from him.

"You have a mind like hers," Shang muttered, unable to stop his arms from going numb.

"No," said Guan, with sudden venom. "I am not at all like Mulan. _I_ am better--unfettered. No loyalties, just a naked blade."

With his last free breath, Shang told him, "Even steel needs tempering."

Shang's last sensation was of the guards coming in to collect the wounded Marshal, and of the sigh of a spirit changing its form.

* * *

_Ten days later…_

Mulan, the plain woman Mulan without rank or distinction, sat with her arms on her knees, cupping her chin while the fish swam past her through the clear river. Another time, she would have caught one, but what was the point? She couldn't prove anything to anyone now.

What was her purpose in life from this day on? She hadn't been dishonored, just dismissed. That was the most painful part: whatever Seven and Yumen Guan's roles had been, it was Chi Fu and the Emperor's consulate who had backed them every step of the way without asking any questions of Mulan. The army had said, in essence: We appreciated what you did before, Mulan, it's nice that you saved our necks, now just toddle on back to your village before you cause any more trouble. We don't want you here to stay. You had success, but you can't keep it.

And right now, that was just what Mulan wanted most. She had a home and a family, but she also had a place here, with the trainees and her friends and commander. She needed to be here, not feeding chickens and breaking teacups on the farm.

So, now what? Where to start again? Mulan needed something that would help her against Yumen Guan, but she also needed resources...time...support. With the Festival of Ghosts a short time away, she had to have a big breakthrough, and soon.

Mulan stood up.

"This problem is bigger than I am," she said. "No matter what I'm really feeling right now, I have to focus on the others first."

"You're right, Captain," said a voice that cut through her reverie.

It was the impudent young man who had challenged her authority the first day of her command. She had learned his name by now: Pang Tsu.

Mulan faced him, her expression hooded. "Recruit?" she said without emotion.

"Sir, for all you officers like to give inspirational speeches, it's nice to know that you're willing to follow through with them yourselves. Especially when you think we're not around to see you."

Mulan stopped short a none-too-gentle reply as she realized what he had called her.

"I'm only Fa Mulan now," she said, adding with a small smile, "Otherwise, what you said might be considered insubordination."

"Not at all, CAPTAIN," he added firmly. "Or if you prefer, Lady Fa...either way, please come with me. I really think you should see this."

She followed him onto the training grounds, where all of her men were lined up as if for inspection. Upon her approach, they saluted.

"Sir?" said one of the usually more timid of the group. "We know that something's wrong and you're probably not allowed to tell us what it is. We know from Yao and Ling that Chien-Po would never act like he just did, and that Chi Fu is really full of—"

"THANK you, soldier," said Mulan sternly.

"Yes, well, what we wanted to say was that we know you have the trust of General Li and with everyone you've actually served with."

Another man nodded in agreement. "The only people who don't respect you here either don't know you, or are jealous."

"So," finished Pang Tsu, "It comes down to this: now that Yao and Ling have orders to go west, there aren't any other officers here, except for you and Chien-Po. We're not training under him."

Mulan folded her arms. "You do not have a choice."

They exchanged glances.

"Well, the thing is—" offered one.

"...Only way, really, to..."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time..."

Mulan tried to read their faces. "What have you done?"

* * *

"Mph! Mph mphmphmph."

"Chien-Po?"

This day proved, if nothing else, that Seven was not entirely invincible. Mulan (on the threat of issuing extreme pain to all those involved) was led to a small tent—obviously one of the recruits'. There, tied securely with climbing rope, Seven lay on his stomach, trussed up like a pig.

"We knew we probably couldn't defeat him one on one," said one man. "So when he called for us to practice our moves on horseback, we all got together and surrounded him. He was on foot at the time, so it was easy. Then we tied him like the animal he is. What a fight he put up!"

"Indeed," said Mulan, trying to sound as unimpressed as Shang would have been, but couldn't help the giggle that escaped on seeing her rival in such a condition. And done in by green trainees, no less!

"Well," she cast about for something to say, "I guess more damage was done to his pride than anything else. But couldn't you have expressed your wishes a bit less...forcefully?" She looked at them kindly. "I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Ah, we won't," one boy piped up. "We told Chi Fu he was sick and couldn't show up for duty!"

The knot of men broke into laughter.

Mulan felt the situation getting out of hand, but didn't know exactly how to stop it. She had learned to manage their rebelliousness, but had not yet learned to trump their goodwill.

"You guys..." she said exasperatedly.

She looked again at Seven.

Resignedly, "He does look right at home there, doesn't he?"

There were scattered snickers all around her.

Mulan considered her options. "Well, Seven, you've achieved exactly what you wanted. I'm out of commission as an officer." She took one step toward Seven, then another. Her footfalls were intentionally soft, her movements subtle and deliberate. "I am not now a captain, only a woman…under no authority but my father's…and I happen to have the heart and skills of a soldier. Tell me again why you thought this was a good idea."

She bent down and rolled him onto his back, taking care to avoid his hands.

"I doubt I can threaten or intimidate you," she said. "And to kill you right now would mean I'd be hunted down and executed. So, what do you think we are going to do with you?"

"We?" sneered Seven. "They are NOT under your command! They're only following along because they don't like me!"

Mulan about-faced. "Is this true, men?"

There was a chorus of protests, loud "NO"s, and a few swears that Mulan instantly put a stop to.

"Search his tent," Mulan commanded. "We'll see if he has any orders that he's not supposed to have."

It didn't take much time to find all of Seven's scrolls, all unfortunately legitimate-looking orders signed by the Marshal himself. Aside from that, there were only a few keepsakes, a sword-polishing kit, and a pouch of dried herbs.

Mulan glanced at them when they had finished. "All right, men," she said. "This is where it ends. From now on, I want these grounds vacated, and only I am going to be alone with Seven." When they hesitated, she snapped, "Back to your tents! Now!"

"Yes, sir!" they said, causing Mulan to shake her head.

She took the items outside and examined them herself. Seven was neat to a fault, but the herb pouch caught her eye. Mulan cautiously opened it, then sniffed it.

"I know this plant," she said to herself. "Now, Seven, why in the world would you want to throw up?" she mused. "You wouldn't be able to perform most forms of combat, or even ride…" Her eyes widened. "You weren't planning on going west, were you? You were going to keep watch on me all along!"

Glancing at the recruits, who were running willy-nilly back to their tents, pausing on the way to backslap each other, she smiled. "Hmmm. They did say Seven was too sick to show up for work…"

* * *

"Soup, sir?"

Seven gave her a deadly look from his position on the ground.

"Seven," Mulan said calmly, "Chien-Po is a dear friend, but even I can tell that no one will notice your hunger strike while you're in his body."

Accepting this logic with extreme ill will, Seven allowed her to shift the bowl closer, then rolled over onto his front and slurped it up from the bowl on the ground.

Mulan sat watching him, a pleased look on her face.

"You had no answer to the riddle I posed to you earlier," she said.

Seven made no reply, just continued eating.

"What shall I do with you? I can't kill you. I can't keep you here against your will."

No answer.

"Don't know, do you? Well, allow me."

Mulan drew her sword and sliced his bonds.

Before she could blink, he had rolled over, delivered a kick to her stomach, and went on the offensive. Mulan rolled with the punches, trying to seem more hurt than she was, for she knew that she stood no chance against Seven in an equal contest. The man was an experienced warrior. The most she could do was keep him from laying a hand on her directly—just in case he planned to possess her.

To her credit, Mulan lasted almost a minute before she found herself on the ground with her own sword pointed at her.

"You will tell me," Seven seethed as he loomed over her, "what you're playing at, Fa Mulan. You knew I would do this." Understanding crossed his features. "Oh, I see. You think I won't harm you because you're still in the camp, surrounded by all of your…_followers. _Well, darling, I applaud your bravado, but did it occur to you that I could simply take you prisoner? I'm sure Chi Fu would allow it." He smiled sweetly. "In fact, I could take your form right now. Just need a bit of mud, and you're mine. You have nowhere to run, insect."

"Nice speech," returned Mulan. "Enjoy it, please. I think you won't be able to talk for quite some time."

Seven opened his mouth to mock her again, but stopped as a very unsettling sound came from his stomach. "What the—"

"It works faster if you're overexerting yourself," Mulan informed him. "Good thing I tricked you into fighting me. That, and the concentrated dose I gave you, means you'll be down for the count for about, oh, two or three days."

Seven covered his mouth with both hands. It didn't help.

She stared hard at him. "You can't abandon his body now, either."

"Wh—"

"You must not have heard," said Mulan, her eyes bright with anger. "You didn't ingest an herb. Not according to what the doctor will know. You _actually_ have a very contagious disease, and no one…not even Chi Fu…likes you enough to breach a quarantine and risk getting sick."

Seven's expression sank. "I can't touch anyone to take their bo—BLEAUGH!"

"That's right." Mulan leaned as close as she dared. "You are stuck with Chien-Po. If I were you, I'd take _very _good care of him."

Seven shook with anger, but his sword fell to the side as he doubled over. He made no move to say anything. If he had, he probably would have had to vomit again.

Mulan took his weapon and the rope shreds, just in case, then rose to return to her tent.

As she turned her back to Seven, she heard a hoarse voice.

"You're just like Guan."

Mulan's answering glance smoldered. "No, Seven. Guan would not have troubled your innards. He would have spilled them."

* * *

That night, Mulan was back at the stream. She had already caught her fish, and was watching with amused curiosity as a heron not far from her decided to do the same. It was breathtaking—she kept quiet just to watch the spread of the wings.

Reminded suddenly of her avian pendant, Mulan clutched the phoenix closer to her heart. She prayed to her ancestors that fortune might go with Shang. Then she thought of Mushu, who should have been back at the ancestral temple, but who was most likely in as much danger as Shang was.

The night slunk in, unimpeded by clouds or color. It was a fast sunset, with only a rim of brightness around the horizon.

There was no moon yet. There was only the heron and the quiet swell of the river to take her mind off of everything that had gone wrong.

Nau was dead, and Shueh, almost certainly. Chien-Po was a captive. Chi Fu had the run of her camp. Who knew where Shang was by now?

The list of people Mulan could turn to was growing increasingly slim.

With a smile, she thought of the men she had trained. She knew that they had mostly accepted her, but that they would actually stand up for her…that they would think independently of their superiors…that they would be so much help…if Mulan could take credit for even a little of that, she would be elated.

_Maybe that's the answer_, thought Mulan as the heron flew off for parts unknown. _The recruits will follow me. I could take them near the Imperial City, try and execute a search for that ceramic thumb before word gets out that I'm doing it. _

Almost immediately, her shoulders slumped. No, Yumen Guan probably had agents in the city as well, and she'd never travel all that way with a band of rough soldiers without gathering enough attention to have her stopped long before she reached Xi'an.

What to do now? Where would she go, and who would accept her? Everything was slipping away so fast. Mulan had had her chance at honor and glory…the question was, could she keep it?

Her heart told her to hold on...just hold on.

_The answer will come_, she told herself. _I just have to think of it._

The rest of the day, Mulan spent in contemplation.

* * *

"At ease, gentlemen."

Mulan greeted her riders the following morning. She knew that no matter how much she protested, they would not stop thinking of her like their superior, and it would only dampen her charisma if she were to protest. For now, she had to take the situation as a given.

That decision made—the easiest of the day—Mulan approached them and began sizing them up, demanding that they still perform at their best. A few of the men didn't quite pass inspection, and were forced to take on extra duties because they had forgotten some of their riding gear.

"Tell me something," Mulan addressed the first man in line. "Why isn't Chi Fu out here, shrieking about how I'm training you without Chien-Po?"

The young man's smile nearly took in his ears. "Well, there've been rumors that Chien-Po got awfully sick last night! No one's allowed near him. Chi Fu's probably as far away from this camp as he can get."

"Mmmm, that is true. And," she raised her voice, "no one under my authority will ever approach Chien-Po. Not to fight, not to insult him."

Several heads nodded vigorously.

"What now, Captain Fa?" asked a pale-faced recruit. "You know that we'll join you, whether you're officially in the army or not. Just say the word, and we'll ride wherever you wish us to go."

Mulan felt a rush a warmth through her. It felt good to be wanted, to be needed after so much rejection. But then, she realized what this might mean.

There weren't that many acting soldiers left to begin with after the Hun invasion. There were now even fewer that hadn't been possessed, and even fewer of which Mulan was sure were above suspicion. If she left with fifty of the only horsemen left in China, what would be the result? The complete breakdown of the Imperial army wouldn't be far behind. If she left with them, who would be next to rebel?

The entire military structure could very well cave in on itself.

Looking at all the hopeful faces aimed her way, Mulan couldn't help wincing. She wanted nothing more than to surpass their expectations, to take them with her into battle so they could save their lands together. But was it the right thing to do?

Mulan fumed to herself. _I can't start second-guessing myself now!_

"Men—" she began.

A high whinny was heard towards the end of the line.

Mulan whirled around. She hadn't ordered anyone to bring a horse out onto the training ground.

Mulan resisted the urge to rub her eyes in disbelief. As the rider approached her, she had less and less doubt of who it was. It was Tang!

"Men, attention!" she said hurriedly. "This is the brother of Li Shang. I trust he brings important news."

Tang rode up to her and reined in his horse. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. "I do. But not for their ears, Fa Mulan. Come. We'll talk in your tent."

Mulan had no choice but to leave the baffled line of recruits gaping.

* * *

It wasn't far to her tent, but it gave Mulan plenty of time to work up a temper. What _was _Tang doing here? Surely he should be in the city for his exams, far away from all the troubles that harangued them.

A thought, born of the last few months, made Mulan draw her sword once she had entered the tent. Tang didn't seem frightened in the least; his hands were behind his back in a military posture.

"What is your purpose in coming here, Tang?" Mulan challenged him. "Unless you, too, are one of the enemy. I have a lot on my hands right now. I can't imagine what we would have to say to each other."

Tang gave her an enigmatic look. "I've a message to convey, nothing more. If you're as smart as Shang says, you should remember that we had your favorite meal in my house after the night that we met. It is I, no one else."

Mulan nodded. No impostor would have had access to that knowledge. "Then what, Tang? I haven't got all day. My people need me."

"Well, the Emperor needed me," said Tang. "I delivered the clay thumb to him—yes, I know all about it—and it was enough to convince him to go into hiding so that he can avoid detection. He no longer occupies the palace, but I am forbidden to say where he is. I came to you as fast as I could." Sheepishly, "I even had to borrow a horse once I had delivered the message to the Emperor. Shang and I met, you see, and…" his face became carefully blank. "I have instructions for you. I'm sorry."

With that, he brought his hands from behind his back.

He passed a golden helmet into Mulan's grasp.

Mulan let out a ragged gasp as Shang's helmet appeared. A memory rose in front of her eyes—Shang's elegant hands holding the same helmet. His father's helmet.

His father, who'd been killed.

A scream rose in Mulan's mind, ready to force itself out—

—and was stopped by Tang saying, "Oh."

Mulan looked up at Tang, who had been watching her.

That sound had been so…satisfied. Tang didn't look grief-stricken; he looked _pleased_.

"You were there, weren't you," said Tang quietly. "When he found out that Father died. Though in danger, he's alive, so you don't have to worry."

Mulan felt life flood back into her limbs.

After a small pause, Tang added, "but I'm glad you did."

Mulan stepped back. "I don't understand you."

"I'm glad that I saw such horror in your eyes."

"You wanted me to suffer?"

"I wanted to be sure that you _could._" Tang straightened. "I have family to protect, same as you. My brother is strong in many ways, but to be in love with a woman who only _faked_ interest in him would be more than he could stand. And when it comes to women, he's about as seasoned as a day-old chick."

Mulan was beginning to understand Tang better and better. "He's not stupid," she chided him.

"No, but this was, shall we say, an unexpected move on his part?"

Mulan nodded grudgingly. "I understand that you had to be sure of me. So why is his helmet here, if nothing is wrong with him?"

"Mulan, I can't say for sure there's nothing wrong. But this," Tang turned the helmet over to her, "is for you. He wants you to take this—and go home."

Mulan retracted her hands as though she'd been stung.

"Go _where?_"

"Home, Fa Mulan." Seeing her displeasure, he added, "It's a direct order, not a request."

"What?" Mulan yelled. "Oh, that is _it._"

Tang looked confused.

"HA!" said Mulan in defiance. "Go home? He tried that on me the last time, you know, when he didn't think I was up to handling danger. All of that trust I thought we built…and he's telling me to go _home_!"

"He thinks it's important," said Tang, as if the option were obvious and more than enough explanation.

"No," said Mulan. "No, Tang, I can't just give up and go back to my village. He doesn't believe in me? He thinks I'm bad for his precious career? He loves me too much to have me worry my head about things?"

She dropped the helmet like a hot coal.

"I've had enough of this military bureaucracy. I'm going straight to Marshal Guo and telling _him_ about my suspicions. I bet that if I tell him there's a conspiracy, he will believe me!"

Mulan began pacing back and forth. "I can't believe he did this! Go home? I _trusted _him!"

"Well?" said Tang.

Mulan stopped. "Well what?"

"Do you trust him?" said Tang, giving her a piercing look. "Do you still trust your friendship? Do you confide in your captain?"

Holding the helmet up to her face, and seeing a tormented Mulan looking back, she said, "I can't do this. This is wrong. I can't give up and go back."

Tang gave her a disappointed and rather resentful glance.

"_That's_ your answer to Shang? Your commanding officer?"

Mulan shook her head so vehemently that her topknot nearly came undone. "No, it's not the answer."

She could tell Tang was beginning to lose patience. "Well, what IS the answer?"

"I don't have one!"

"Humph." Tang looked at her critically. "I hope you're not as indecisive with your command decisions as—"

"They're BOTH wrong! Giving up _and_ going forth! Picking up the sword _and_ throwing it down. I feel like riding away with my men, straight at Xi'an, but—" Mulan's thoughts were racing at a breakneck speed. "There must be a better way."

"You have to choose!" said Tang testily. "Silly woman, dithering about what you _maybe, probably _should do when there are lives at stake! Make the choice!"

"Since when," Mulan shot back, "can a commander make only ONE mistake?"

Tang was taken aback, as if he had never considered the possibility before.

Mulan looked at him intently. "At this moment, I can only be right once, but I can be wrong a thousand times!" she insisted. "You're right, Tang; it's time to stop debating. Where I go from here depends on information that I need and don't have. Before I make my move, I must know more."

All of a sudden, she sized him up. "You're a scholar, aren't you?" she said. "You must have a good memory. I need more information. Any that you can give me. Anything about how Shang looked or acted, hints he might have dropped. A word-for-word recitation of what happened, if that's what it takes."

Tang scuffed his shoe against the ground. "I don't know. It's, well, you might have been mentioned in the conversation, and not in the most flattering—"

"Now who's dithering, Li Tang?"

Well, there was only one answer to that. Tang told her everything, word for word. When he had stopped speaking, Mulan had her head in her hands. She stayed silent for a long time, face hidden from view.

"Well?" came Tang's voice.

"My village was on an official scroll? Recently?"

"Yes. It couldn't have alluded to the previous raid at Yu-Wen; far too much time has passed."

"So," said Mulan quietly. "There's a new problem there. And from Seven's taunts, I know that my guardian departed my village recently. And now, Li Shang has given me orders to return."

She closed her eyes.

"Tang," she said. "I am going home."

There were a few moments of silence.

"But…so is my sword."

* * *

The trainees were waiting for her outside; her family was awaiting her at home; somewhere, far across the patchwork of fields like a xianqi board of China, Yumen Guan was waiting for her to make her move.

Chien-Po was there, waiting to be released. Mushu was there, waiting for her to rescue him.

The Emperor was waiting for her to do her duty.

But Mulan was no longer waiting to understand herself.

Part of being in the army meant following orders. It was ingrained into her life, now. But _how _and how _well _she chose to follow them was her business.

It was not a fluke, not a trick of fate that she had succeeded before. Mulan was sure she had earned a permanent place in the army. She had saved China, and now she would defend it.

_I__** can**_ _command._

She brushed any dirt she could see off her clothes. She did her hair up in a flawless topknot. She looked one last time at the helmet.

"I trust you, Shang," she said to it, then waited, as if yearning for a reply.

His voice echoed in her head from the moment they had met in her home.

_Mulan, you forgot your helmet. Oh, well, well, it's actually your helmet, isn't it, I mean…_

"He trusts _me_, too," she said aloud. "I know he does. I know it. I shouldn't ever have doubted that."

She made sure her sword was razor-sharp.

"I'm doing what you ask," she said to the air, "but I'm doing it my own way. Now, if only Chi Fu hadn't taken away MY helmet." She glanced at the metal affectionately. "I appreciate the sentiment, Shang, but if you're on a mission, this shouldn't have gone to me. It should've gone to whoever you picked to replace you in commanding the army."

Pause.

Her knuckles tightened around the rim.

China was experiencing a conspiracy through the ranks of the Imperial Army. Shang didn't know which soldiers, which commanders, were compromised. Who could the military turn to for authority, if he wasn't there? If he had gone into danger, and the most Tang could say was that Shang lived, who would Shang trust to command in his place?

Who, above all else?

Mulan looked at the helmet again. _He meant for me to _wear _it!_

Far from not trusting her to do things right…he had trusted only her.

She suddenly felt ashamed. _I very nearly didn't go._

It lasted for only a moment before she began to pack. "So, I screwed up. There's only one thing you can do when you're quite not the person you want to be…"

She looked the helmet in the eye.

"…become a better one."

With that, she placed the helmet squarely on her head.

"Tang!" she called to Shang's brother, who was standing dutifully outside the tent. "Assemble my troops. I have a message for them."

* * *

She rode out to a chorus of cheers.

"We don't need no stinkin' orders!"

"Down with Chi Fu!"

"We serve no one but you, Mulan!"

"QUIET!" Mulan roared. "And not true, Recruit."

There was a murmur of surprise from the men.

"The lesson I learned on my first campaign is that we _all_ serve the Emperor. Our general commands by his will. And General Li Shang has given me an order that I cannot and will not refuse." Lowering her voice she said, "He is not a distant military figure, gentlemen. He is my captain. My teacher. I trust him with my life."

She looked over to Tang. "You attended the Academy, I assume?"

Tang gave her a flabbergasted look. "I, uh, guess that I—"

"Then you have command until I return."

There were groans of disappointment.

Pang Tsu looked up at her with a pleading gaze. "Don't you see, Captain?" he said. "We're with you. We'll follow you, with or without authority."

"Then I forgive you, Recruit, because you are new to this game."

Mulan pursed her lips. "I am not a vigilante. I'm a soldier in the Imperial Army, and I'll do the duty laid before me. Pang Tsu, send a message to Yao and Ling, telling them where I've gone."

She whistled for Khan.

* * *

No sooner had Mulan reached her village than she was beset by a figure in red.

"Oh, man, Mulan, am I glad to see you! How ya doin', girl?"

Mulan was so surprised she nearly fell off of Khan. "Mushu?!"

With a sigh of relief, she hugged her guardian close. "You can't imagine how much I worried! What might have happened…"

Suddenly, she looked carefully at him. "Your eyes…they look different, somehow."

Mushu fluttered his eyelids. "Pretty handsome, now, aren't they? Now, I'll surely get more girls than that Ping fella!"

Mulan rolled her eyes. Inside, though, she was jumping for joy. At last, something in the world had gone right again! "Just tell me how, and why."

"Short answer: Thunder God, 'cause he hates Yumen Guan. Who, by the way, sliced up yours truly before Thunder God found me and returned me to the temple. Now, did ya get the message?"

Mulan wrinkled her brow, even as she pondered the implications of Mushu being harmed. "What message was that?"

"Guh—" Mushu looked like he had been swatted. "What? The message! The thing I've been tryin' to tell ya forever! Isn't that why you're back here? Doncha know?"

Mulan shook her head. "I don't, Mushu." Thoughtfully, "But I bet that Shang did. Tell me, Mushu. What's been going on at home?"

Mushu gulped. "You know the clay statues of the people Guan and his fellas possessed? Well…they're here. Right here, in this village."

Mulan tensed. "They're hidden here, in Yu-Wen? Then we should root them out. It'll prove everything!"

"Uh, well, that's just it." Mushu fiddled with his tail. "See, Yumen Guan is pretty smart. The clay look-alikes aren't out in the open, or even in some market stall someplace. They're…underground."

Mulan's voice was almost a whisper. "Where, Mushu?"

But even as she asked, she knew the answer. It explained why Mushu would have firsthand knowledge of what happened.

"Where spirits live," said Mulan bitterly. "That's where Guan put them. And, if I know him, the one place I could never convince ANYONE to dig."

The dragon nodded sadly in confirmation.

Mulan looked out to the sleepy farming town.

"They're all buried beneath our ancestral temples. And to get them out, we'd have to overturn each one."

* * *


	12. Eye of the Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan_ or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Eye of the Storm

There was but one sour note in the harmonious triumph of Yumen Guan over the palace and its military structure: Marshal Guo, who had become his old self again after Guan had possessed the real General Li. To be precise, the spirit slated to possess the Marshal had vanished. One full week after Yumen Guan had secured the palace guard and had begun to control the flow of information from the palace, there was still no sign of Two.

The Marshal was too valuable a figurehead to lose by killing him, but Yumen Guan was fast running short of options. Though sporting all the wounds Guan had acquired during the fight with Li Shang, the Marshal had already tried twice to escape. Guan wasn't fool enough to leave such an enemy at her back; he would have to be dealt with. If only Two had reported for duty!

Then again, if Two _had _been discovered...Guan smiled fiendishly. What was Mulan going to do, murder Captain Wan to get rid of Two? Guan hardly thought so. Guan doubted equally Mulan's desire to kill Guan herself, at least in the body Guan was in now. Mulan was no doubt quite fond of it...

The fact remained that Two was nowhere to be found.

Placating, Yumen Guan told herself, "No worries. Calm down and get a hold of yours—"

Guan irately threw herself down on the Emperor's bed. No, there was no way to convince herself that all was well. Her best soldier missing? Trouble could only come of it.

In favor of action, Yumen Guan rose and decided to inventory her new "troops".

A squad of guards stood aside as Guan threw open the royal doors, scoffed at the darkening sky, and took in the sight of her newest undertaking.

The entire area had been converted into a makeshift campground. Cooking fires and tents were scattered here and there. Men in gray moved in dark hordes across the grounds, in defiance of the waiting storm that watched them from above. They were rough, unshaven, and though some were disposed to carry conventional weapons, others hefted grapnel hooks, cleavers, clubs, and even a few choice poisons. A good third still bore the marks from where chains had been fastened to their wrists and ankles for years at a time.

These were no soldiers. With only a hundred men at her disposal and most of _those _controlling the move out west, Yumen Guan had had to improvise to obtain more men. These she had culled from the recesses of the local prisons, crime-ridden corners of the city, and executioner's blocks. She had promised each of them their freedom, restored honor, and a soft bed in the Imperial palace once this was over. (Not fooled in the least, they had demanded money instead.) For this undertaking, Guan had raided the treasury, and now three hundred men camped out below the palace steps.

Guan had not allowed the servants or any visitor to the palace to leave it. There were daily role calls for every man, woman, and child, to ensure that word did not reach the rest of the Imperial City. Twice, there had been attempts at escape, but Yumen Guan made it clear that death would be instant for such behavior and that, by contrast, no harm would befall anyone while he or she remained quiet. It effectively stymied these efforts, as small and pitiful as they were.

Guan ordered half of her new troops to bivouac by her father's former fields, not straying onto the Baos' lands—yet—but keeping a sharp eye on the well. Meanwhile, she'd made preparations for forcing a bigger entrance into the Emperor of Qin's burial grounds. That had been the easiest challenge to date: once Yumen Guan had local prisoners in her payroll, it was easy to find out from them the _real _function of the black powder.

Yumen Guan would blast a hole through to the dormant regiments below her land, releasing the spirits on the Festival of Ghosts. And once she brought even more of the dregs of society to the Emperor's doorstep, the ancient warriors would have plenty of bodies to occupy.

"Mulan will be there, too. She'll find a way," Guan's advisors had informed her.

"Yes," said Yumen Guan. "I wouldn't miss it."

* * *

"So basically, it's no problem whatsoever. We just have to convince all of our neighbors to dig up the temples to their revered ancestors because there are spirits who take people's forms and turn those people into clay. Is that about right?"

Mulan ran her fingers through her hair distractedly. "Don't remind me. There's probably something beneath each of our temples, including…" Mulan took a deep breath. "Including my own. That's how you knew, isn't it?"

She looked to her temple. The setting sun haloed it, bringing out the deep red roof and darkening the interior. How could it have been that she could protect China and not this small corner of the world that meant so much to her?

Mushu climbed onto her shoulder and patted it. "Don't worry, Mulan, it's all right. Ours is the one temple that wasn't affected."

Mulan looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Girl, I'd know if my own temple had been overturned! It was the ole rascal Ping's temple that I saw. 'Sides, your family would be feelin' something right now if their ancestors had been disturbed! Last I checked, they were all fine!"

"It makes no sense for Yumen Guan to attack everyone else _but_ me!" Mulan returned. "This is an assault upon the very heart of what we are. If my temple was affected, I wouldn't be demoralized, as Guan so obviously wanted."

"Ya wouldn't be able to prove anything, either."

Mulan rocked back on her heels. Mushu was right.

Mulan pictured herself doing exactly what Yumen Guan had wanted: finding out before anyone else that the temples had been tampered with...begging her father to understand…helping her family to dismantle or dig under the shrine…and finding absolutely nothing.

For her, Yumen Guan had wanted worse than sacrilege: sacrilege, for _nothing_.

Mulan was not a person that was inclined to hate people, but there was no denying that in that instant she came very, very close.

Her ironclad stare focused on Mushu, who looked like he was resisting the urge to salute her before she even spoke.

"Mushu, tell me what happened from that day."

"Will do!" said Mushu immediately. He cleared his throat. "It was a dark and stormy night…"

Chirp!

"Whaddaya mean, unoriginal? Pipe down before I—"

Chirp!

"No, I did NOT panic as soon as I saw the temple! Here's what happened, Mulan, and don't listen to any o' that bug's backtalk. I had just reached Ping's temple, when I saw and heard everyone in the shrine panicking like someone had set the sky afire. Then, I saw these men closing up this huge hole underneath the shrines! It was awful. I just set off right away to find—"

Cri-Kee raised an antenna and muttered something.

"Hey, I had every reason to fear that horse. If you can call it that...beast was the size of a mountain!" Mushu grimaced at Cri-Kee. "Just 'cause it you're too tiny for it to spot doesn't mean you've earned the Emperor's crest for valor. Maybe I should turn you over to Huang Lo. It was your idea to make off with his stallion!"

"YOU took a horse from Huang Lo?" Mulan exclaimed. Her expression sank. "Please tell me it didn't have a black coat."

Mushu shifted his feet. "We were goin' to give it back!"

"I'm _sure _Huang Lo will say it's the thought that counts." Sigh. "All right. We have to find a way to destroy all of the terra cotta figures without overturning the temples. Suggestions?"

Chirp! Chirp!

Mushu cocked his head to one side. "Cri-Kee says dig a shaft diagonally and then pull them out one by one, the same way the diggers put 'em in."

"Our village has twenty families that can afford shrines," Mulan calculated. "That means we have to dig that many shafts deep into the ground, plus haul five figures out from under each temple and then destroy them. I'm not sure how long that would take...but it's too long."

Mushu wrinkled his nose. "How long do we have?"

"One day."

"Say WHAT?"

"I'll explain later. Just give me anything else you can think of." Mulan started up the hill to her own ancestral shrine.

Halfway there...

"I know!" said Mushu, hopping about excitedly. "Black powder. Just pull out a stone step or two, pour some underneath the temples..."

"Mushu, we can't blow up the family shrines!"

"Picky, picky, picky."

"Besides, we need something the village elders will agree to! They'd never stand for my placing explosives underneath the temples!"

Mushu shrugged. "Maybe, but if you ask me, girl, _you're_ the captain. You tell 'em all to stick their fingers in one ear, and they'd have to say, 'Left or right?' It's not about how comfortable they'll all be with what you say. It's what gets the job done."

Mulan looked at her feet dejectedly. "Mushu, what I'm asking of them is beyond what a soldier can or can't order. It's beyond law; it's touching the core of their identities."

She stepped inside her own shrine, bowing to the sacred tablets of her family. "I need your guidance," she whispered. In silence, she added, _I think I always will._

The stillness gave birth to a susurrus around her. She could almost see the watchful eyes peering out from the characters carved there. She felt all the contradictions of being here: while her thoughts were speeding up, urging each other on frantically to counter Yumen Guan, her spirit was at peace, even tranquil here, as if the notion of time were just nonsense, and all that mattered was the place.

_Do I just abandon these stones, once I'm married?_ thought Mulan. _I told Shang I would see how things went at home during this mission. I was away for only a little while, and look what happened! Yet more, much more than that, I belong here. Not just in my father's house...here, in the shrine, every festival, every time my soul needs cleansing. _

When she had gone to save her father's life, that moment in the temple was one she'd never left behind. She remembered that rain, as heavy as it had ever been with Yumen Guan around, pelting between the ancient columns. The cold stone floor had sent chills through her bare feet, and she had felt all the scrutiny of the towering guardians, who seemed to be waiting for her to live up to them. The moment she'd lit the incense, she had felt encircled and touched by their strength. As out of place as she'd been in the rest of the world, she'd felt herself become a part of them, and they had never left her.

She knew now: she could never abandon them.

"I'll find a way to save each and every stone in this village," Mulan swore to them. "I know you'll be behind me."

She closed her eyes, felt a stirring breeze. For a moment, Mulan sensed light swimming into existence beyond her eyelids. It was blue and brilliant, and she thought she heard echoes, almost as of singing…the voices heightened...

Mulan opened her eyes. The sun had gone down, and the shrine was as dark as it had ever been.

* * *

"Citizens, I have called you here at dawn on behalf of the Emperor and the Imperial Army. As an Imperial captain—"

"Fa Zhou, can't you control your daughter?" broke in an insulted bystander. "She speaks as though she has authority over us!"

"I know the honorable Fa patriarch called this meeting," objected another, "but really…"

"**I** called you here." Mulan stepped in front of her father. "I knew you wouldn't come unless I mentioned his name, but it is I and I alone who will speak to you on behalf of your leaders. There is an urgent situation that has come to—"

"Did your rice get burned this morning?" chuckled an old man condescendingly.

Mulan raised her chin as she recognized him. She'd helped him with his strategy on Matchmaking day. Oh, Mulan knew just how to handle this—he was no different than the unruly Pang Tsu.

"Was _your _xiangqi board overturned, Shao Yi-Lin? Or did you manage to win more than one match out of five today?"

Gasps arose from a good third of the crowd. No one believed she would dare to say such a thing.

Mulan seized the intervening quiet to bring forth Shang's helmet.

"General Li entrusted this to me in his absence!" Mulan proclaimed. "As this is so, I speak for him. Anytime you interrupt _me, _you interrupt him and the one who rules him."

She bore their stares without batting an eye.

"What rapport you have with me does not matter. My status in this town is irrelevant. You _will _follow these orders, as subjects of the Emperor; as people under military protection, you _will _remain silent until I have told you how to counter the threat we are all facing."

Her words had the weight of an edict.

"Most of you have felt spiritual disturbance for this past month. This is due to an attack of the cruelest kind: one on your shrines. China's enemy has broken with every sort of decency. What you hold sacred is nothing more than dirt to him. His men have dug underground and laid clay figures beneath all of temples in this town. These are prisons for the souls of Imperial soldiers whom our enemy has captured. Your temples are all in danger and will remain so unless he is stopped."

People all around her began to glance at one another. Mulan could tell that she had struck home: these folk had undergone an emotional ordeal while she was away, and had been helpless to remedy it or seek out its cause.

"W-who is _he_?" ventured a young woman with a twin on each arm.

"He goes by the name Yumen Guan," said Mulan. "He is a restless soul whose temple was destroyed long ago. He and his men steal the appearances of people around him—anyone he can get his hands on is doomed. The spirits of the living are constricted to the clay likenesses; the spirits of the dead roam free, in their stolen shapes. This has gone unchecked through the army's chain of command, and the proof that it is happening lies here, in this village."

Mulan took a deep breath. "He hired the Men of Mist."

Murmurings began to shift through the crowd.

"He has a hundred men at his command. But that command will cease if the statues are demolished."

"You mean, if the _temples_ are demolished," said Huang Lo bitingly. "If what you say is true—and I truly doubt it—our only option is to disgrace our sacred tombstones!"

"No!" Mulan said, her voice raised to forestall panic. "That is why you are here now. You are going to help me think of a way to save your shrines and smash those figures. We don't have much time, so I'll need you to think quickly. The rest of the army is now out west, and cannot help you. Only you can."

"What if we don't?" challenged Huang Lo fiercely. "What if we choose not to?"

All was quiet.

"Then I will mark your disobedience," said Mulan, "and hold you accountable for all its repercussions."

The hush expanded. Huang Lo seemed to want to say more, but was unsure of how to follow his own harsh words.

"Now," she concluded strongly, "I will take suggestions."

"Excuse me, Captain," said a voice Mulan didn't know. "What kind of clay are these supposed statues made from?"

Mulan unobtrusively tried to stand on tiptoe to see who had spoken, but she could only see the top of his head. It was an unusual question, but she responded as if it weren't.

"Well, my...source of information...says it's terra cotta."

"Fired? Or greenware?"

This was a queer line of questioning, and left Mulan at a loss. When the man had shouldered his way through the crowd, though, Mulan understood the specificity of his questions. It was the local potter.

"Forget him," said Huang Lo dismissively. "He's an artisan. What does he know of spirits? Almost as bad as a merchant—"

"Be silent!" Mulan ordered. "I'm not sure what you're hinting, but we could use your expertise," she said encouragingly to the potter.

The man stroked his beard thoughtfully. "What makes these statues possible, is what I want to know."

"Thunder God," Mulan replied. "It's a gift he gave to Yumen Guan, that the earth of Guan's homeland might be revenged on those who pilfered it. But Guan turned on Thunder God and used the charm for his own corrupt purposes."

To her surprise, the potter began to smile. "Ahhh, how poetic," he said. "The earth of Guan. Not very practical, though."

He had piqued Mulan's curiosity. "Why is that?"

"Such a _literal_ interpretation as that would be extremely sensitive to a change in heat or moisture. The larger the figure, the truer this is." He glanced at her pointedly. "A man-made statue, life size, would have to be fired at least once for it to be durable. Yet a fire that burns hotly and quickly would cause Thunder God's clay casks to shatter in no time."

Mulan examined the option. "You want to put them in kiln to break them? Wouldn't that take time?"

"They're already _in_ a kiln of sorts," said the potter. "They're under the temple foundations, aren't they? An enclosed space, made of stone?" He faced the crowd. "We wouldn't dig. We'd just have to remove a couple of the temple's steps, put in some char and kindling, and start a fire. It will damage the clay far before it will harm the stone, the ancestral tablets won't have to be moved, nor the earth disturbed. The only scorch marks will appear on the underside, where they won't be seen. Afterwards, the statues will simply disintegrate back into the earth with the passage of time."

Mulan gave him a winning smile. "I'd give you a promotion if I could."

The potter held up a finger. "There is one problem. It's going to take a lot of work _and _expertise to make sure the fire reaches the right temperature. A proper blaze will take a couple of days to get started."

_Not with the help of a certain dragon, _thought Mulan. Publicly, she told them she would take care of that problem personally.

"Fa Zhou!" hollered a villager. "Please advise us. We know you to deal uprightly in times of distress and danger. You dote on your daughter, but you wouldn't put other people in danger because of her." He paused, not meeting Mulan's gaze. "Is this plan worthwhile?"

Fa Zhou made his way over to the man with some effort. He looked the dissenter in the eye, then eyed the others. "Her plan will pass muster."

Mulan resisted the urge to yell, "Yes!" and began organizing the town into helping. She went over to her father and, when no one was looking, quietly said, "Thanks."

Composedly, Fa Zhou replied, "It was an impartial decision, Daughter." He nodded approvingly. "Congratulations. You've convinced both them and me."

The way in which he said it made Mulan look differently at him than she had before. He was standing tall now, the cane not a crutch, just a dead thing he could snap. His expression changed—touched with a pride and vigor he'd never needed since his injury. Mulan glimpsed in him the kind of commander whose men would obey him without question, fight valiantly... _Maybe even cooperate together on latrine duty,_ she grinned to herself.

"Come," he motioned her towards home, "I'll go on Khan and summon those boys of yours back from Wu Zhong while you're busy here." He hesitated, almost wincing. "You didn't leave them without a commander, did you, Mulan?"

A warm glow of pride washed over her as she said, "No, sir!"

* * *

Getting on Yu-Wen's good side for a matter of minutes was not as hard as actually putting the plan into practice. When all was said and done, Mulan still did not have substantial proof, and many were reluctant to have their temple be the first one in this experiment.

It was with infinite relief that she had a volunteer.

"Our family," Xi announced before everyone, "will follow the Imperial orders." Her husband looked a bit taken aback, but Xi smiled in the manner that said, _If you ever want an edible home-cooked meal again, you will do as I say._

"Y-yes, we will be the first to back Fa Mulan," he echoed. "I'll need help budging the stone steps, though."

Xi smiled at him. "Mulan and I will take one end of each slab, and you the other."

If any of the villagers still harbored doubts, these were leveled half an hour later, when the clay statue of a soldier was found, along with four others, beneath the foundation of Xi's husband's temple.

Now, it was only a matter of Mushu.

* * *

The weather-beaten hands of Captain Wan were gentle as they traced across the dragon door handles of the Li family compound.

Now that Tang had opened Two's eyes, there was so much more that he could remember. There had been a time when he'd been small and those handles had been head height. He'd watched his father go away to quell a riot in the south, according to the orders of the Emperor. His father had returned with a medal and without one eye.

The memory did not dull the edge of his relief at being here.

The servants thought nothing of admitting a military man into the compound; doubtless there was some business that the new general was wanted for. When informed that Li Shang was in service elsewhere, in Xi'an, however, "Captain Wan" merely pursed his lips and said he was well aware of that.

"His father, the elder Li, is dead, and Li Tang is also in Xi'an," he said absently. Sharply, he inquired, "Are there any more descendants of the line?"

Startled, one manservant replied, "The young master is at school. He will return in a few months."

"Lady Li, then," replied Captain Wan. "She'll do. I'll wait for her in my r—in the room with the white and gold tapestries."

"Yes, sir. I'll show you—"

"I'll find my own way."

The servant bowed and all but ran off. Two smiled.

It wasn't long before Lady Li found him. Two was bent over a half-filled scroll, writing furiously.

"Sir," he heard her voice icily. "I have no doubt that you have been here before. Nonetheless, your presence in this part of the house is unexpected and I cannot allow it while my sons are absent."

"Of course not," said Captain Wan politely. "Even so, I'm staying until I finish my scroll. Did you know that this used to be my room, hundreds of years ago? It's been retouched, I see, and kept in good order. Our family still prospers, even more than when I was living."

Lady Li seemed to find it difficult to breathe.

"I'm sure you've heard the rumors of ghosts being about," said Two equably, waiting for the color to drain back into her face. "From one of your sons or the other, am I correct? Even if they hadn't told you directly, you ought to have listened and watched enough to know something of what's going on. The women chosen to serve the Li family have always been sharp-eyed."

Lady Li still eyed him dubiously. Then Two showed her the first part of the scroll.

It was a chronicle of descent, beginning with the first Li ancestor.

"Take me to the temple," he ordered. "They'll match, I'm sure of it."

Instead, Lady Li drew back, wide-eyed. "I've seen those marks before. I know you speak the truth. What do you want of me?"

"Take me to the temple. I mean you no harm. How could I?"

"If you are a Li, you must be a warrior. I know you are bent on conquering China, if only from the inside."

"Not anymore," said Two with feeling. "Your son, the heir to our family line, commands the army, doesn't he? And the Emperor he serves is truly a son of heaven?"

Lady Li nodded.

"Then it is, after all, the same world that I left," said Two, "and there is nothing more to be done. I don't need to live again, now that I know; my grandsons, however many times removed, are upholding my legacy. It is not right of me to fight them for it. Besides," he allowed himself a small smile, "with this, they might win."

He flourished the scroll.

"This," he said, "contains what lies beneath the land of the Baos, and where it can be found. I don't know how many there are; only Yumen Guan knows that. There are no spirits invading your home except myself; any trustworthy servant in this house may take it to Wu Zhong, where Li Tang has no doubt traveled."

"You know our movements so well," Lady Li faltered for a moment, then gathered her strength. "Is it hopeless?"

"Li Shang has been taken," said Two, "by Yumen Guan himself. But Fa Mulan is still free."

Lady Li recoiled. "Fa Mulan?" she said indignantly. "You say her name at a time like this?"

"A typical response from a future mother-in-law," laughed Two. "Put aside your woman's scorn and be a Li. Fa Mulan is the only person that Yumen Guan can't pin down. Did you know that she was to have been our very first target?" He nodded reminiscently. "Oh, Yumen Guan's official orders were to see how many soldiers were surrounding her and to take _them, _but the real reason for that command was that Guan didn't want to face Mulan unless Mulan was truly alone. Yet after all this time, the woman warrior is still free." He shrugged. "Li Shang respects her enough to promote her to captain."

"He's enamored of her," muttered Lady Li.

"In that case…" Two's eyes were piercing. "You are a formidable woman, no doubt, but do you really want to fight two of the most dangerous people in China on a matter which they both hold dear to their hearts? I'd make Mulan an ally, if I were you. Of course, I have a strategist's mind, and not the mind of a jealous—"

"Jealous indeed!" said Lady Li angrily. "That's for squabbling fishwives. I am concerned about the quality of woman who will likely bear the only sons Li Shang will sire! I must be sure."

"So must we all," said Two solemnly. "For this, all you need do is talk to your second son. And now, Lady Li," he pressed the scroll into her hands, "I take my leave."

He walked purposefully towards the temple.

How grand it still was in its silence! The vigilant guardians, the tall stones. Two searched with his eyes and hands, his fingers brushing over the ink-black tablets.

There, he had found it. His own name.

"Home," sighed the spirit, "I've found my way home."

He exhaled, and left the body of Captain Wan. He heard Lady Li's gasp, and then he was free and hovering, and then he was drowsy…so drowsy…

The former Two yawned in his spirit form, balanced in the air over his ancestral stone, and fell into a trance. He had renounced his wanderings, and took his rightful place. Whether or not he deserved such an end, Two's sleep would be long and unencumbered.

* * *

"Ah-ah-ah-ah-CHOO!"

FWOOOOM!

In a few breathless seconds, the dragon had exhaled a white flame much hotter than his customary yellow-orange. He glared as Cri-Kee tickled his nose with a small leaf, but sneezed obligingly, surrounding the clay with flames. There was no need for tinder with Mushu around; the kindling all but ignited at the smallest tongue of fire. From temple to temple they went, Mulan always looking over her shoulder and hoping that no one had spotted them. A few curious townsfolk did try to linger, but Mulan stood up straight as she could and politely nodded at them to leave.

By all rights, the same farmers should have laughed, if not shooed her away. Instead, they gave Mulan her space with little argument. Perhaps it was partly the cape talking, but even so, this was quite a leap of faith for them to take. That they trusted her that far was heartwarming and nerve-wracking in tandem.

Two hours later, Mulan revisited Xi's temple. The heat made ripples in the air around her, but she could still approach it. As the potter has predicted, the temple remained untouched. Mulan bade Mushu slither closer for a look.

"Well?" said the woman warrior hopefully.

Mushu about-faced and raised two fists in the air. "Yyyyyyes!"

Mulan forgot herself for a moment and let out a whoop of delight. She got a hold of her glee quickly, though, looking surreptitiously left and right to make sure no one had heard her.

The change in heat had been too quick for the statues to take. All five clay men had either cracked or shattered. One had had its head explode from the sheer pressure. Mulan let it burn for another hour, just to be sure, and then helped Xi and her husband lift the slab steps back in place. The lack of air soon quenched the flames, and the temple was right back to the way it was, albeit a bit more peaceful. Xi and her husband visibly relaxed as the damage of Yumen Guan was undone.

"It's home again," said Xi, throwing a bright look Mulan's way.

"Does it really feel that way for you? I mean, so soon after the wedding," Mulan said softly.

"Oh, yes," Xi nodded. "My father used to beat me twice a day. I fancied Tau here for ages, so Mama and I bribed the Matchmaker to have him set up with me."

Mulan's eyes widened. "I never knew."

"I never wanted you to. You always had so much strength, and I didn't want to get you in trouble, too." She took in the sight of her new home proudly. "There's more than one way of getting what one wants in this life, Fa Mulan."

Mulan smiled weakly. _Was_ there, really?

"So now we go to the other temples?" said Xi.

"Yes," said Mulan. Now we—"

"Urgent news, Captain!"

Xi automatically moved out of the way to make room for Pang Tsu and his horse. Mulan herself was inclined to laugh at the important way he carried himself. She didn't let on, though. Instead, she listened intently as her subordinate reported all cavalrymen under her command accounted for and ready to work. Mulan instructed them to begin heaving the temple steps back in place. Already, she was fretting at the time it would take to accomplish this goal, as much as Mushu had helped.

After she'd dismissed Pang Tsu and said her good-byes to Xi, she felt her guardian take his place at the nape of her neck.

"So, gonna tell me what this time constraint is?"

"I'd rather I didn't have to," Mulan sighed heavily, "but you'll probably figure it out, anyway. How long is it until the Festival of Ghosts, Mushu?"

"Well, let's see now, this bein' the year of the...and the moon is...and..." the dragon babbled on for a few minutes, calculating. "Two weeks, minus one day!" he said triumphantly. "I'm really lookin' forward to that time. Ancestors _love _that time of year! Why, even your Great Ancestor's been known to crack a smile—"

"In other words, it's a time when the spirit world is close to ours," said Mulan without preamble.

"You could said say that..." Mushu's face fell. "Oh, yeah. That's when Yumen Guan plans on unleashin' all the ghosts on the world?"

"Exactly."

"Well, that's thirteen days' cushion time!"

"Except for one thing," said Mulan quietly. "No one knows WHERE the spirits will be unleashed from. No one, except Shang and myself. It's by a well, Mushu. I don't exactly know what's in there, but it's not good news for China."

"And...?" Mushu prompted.

Mulan blew a stray strand of hair away from her face. "It's east of Xi'an. The army moving west will never make it there in time, even if we free all of Guan's prisoners this very day."

Mushu clapped a hand to his forehead.

Mulan began pacing, realized that Shang would be doing the same thing in her place, and fought against the ache that thought left. "There's only one way we can get there in time: on horseback."

"Horseback?" Mushu yelped. "Mulan, you have fifty cavalrymen! Fifty! Do you know how many souls Thunder God told me there'd be at that place?"

Mulan shook her head.

"Thousands. _Thousands. _And these aren't Huns; they're our own soldiers, from a time when war was more a fact of life than water! They know how we fight; heck, they not only wrote the book, they invented the paper it was written on!"

"I know," said Mulan miserably. "They must have _some_ weakness, though."

"Well, you've fought them hand-to-hand before: at the well, and in the tent with Seven. You tell me, girl. Are they weak?"

It was all too much. Every time she thought she'd accomplished something, another problem would crop up.

Mulan sank to the ground, head in her lap. "I don't think I can do this."

Mushu perched on her shoulder and patted the back of her head. "No one ever does, Mulan. But since when has that ever stopped _you?_"

* * *

It was the end of his second sunset in confinement. The herbs had given Seven a rough time, without doubt, but his large size and the fact that he kept Chien-Po in good shape worked heavily in favor of his convalescence. At the end of the second day, he felt, if not at the top of his form, at least well enough to go Mulan-hunting.

Take _him _prisoner, would she? She would get far more than she bargained for.

Seven summoned his strength, rose, and told Chi Fu that he was well enough to pursue to the vagrant recruits. Chi Fu, of course, was glad to hear it, although the counsel's paranoia still made him keep a healthy distance from Seven.

Well, soon that wouldn't matter. He would have the prize: Mulan herself.

The huge black steed was ready at his beckon—and his only, for the beast was only tame to a point. Seven, expert horse handler that he was, fished through the horse's saddlebags with scant trouble and made sure that all was in order.

He smiled to himself. Wouldn't Mulan be amazed to discover herself the last victim of Yumen Guan's curse?

* * *

The following day, while Mulan was with the temples, Seven arrived at Yu-Wen. His first act was to survey the Fa compound from a safe distance. He was trained in stealth, and even with his newfound girth, he was not readily noticeable to passersby.

The gates were barred, but that had never stopped him before. Over the wall he went, flattering himself that he still had all his old agility.

Once inside, he was confident that it would become his playground. He'd seen Mulan fight. She was not a match for him. The only other people in the compound were her parents and grandmother, and those he could easily subdue.

Now, where could that thorn in his side be hiding?

"Oh, Mulaaan," chanted Seven, smiling.

"She's not here," said a gruff voice behind him.

Seven whirled around.

Thank the heavens. It was only Fa Zhou. Seven had thought for a moment that there might have been a soldier guarding the compound.

Seven gave him credit for stealing up on him. There were few who could have done that ordinarily, let alone with a walking stick.

"I must see Fa Mulan at once," said Seven, drawing himself up to his fullest height.

To his astonishment, Fa Zhou only nodded docilely. "Oh, yes, I remember you," he said affably. "You're Chien-Po, aren't you?"

Seven nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Of course," said the older man compliantly. "Please, take tea with me while we wait for her return."

He hobbled away, looking like he needed that crutch just to stand erect. If he had really been aware of Seven, would he have dared turn his back on the soldier? Surely not.

Seven shook his head pityingly. _How awfully the years waste a man_, he thought. _He might have been someone, once. Now, he's taking me right to his beloved child._

Then he grinned toothily.

_Perfect. Lead on, venerable Fa Zhou._

Just in case Fa Zhou _was_ aware of Seven's true nature, Seven poured the tea himself, sniffing it thoroughly under the pretense of enjoyment, just in case Mulan's father shared her skill with slipping herbs into one's drink. There was nothing suspicious about this, though. Fa Zhou didn't even look his way for the ten minutes they sat, sipping companionably.

The mortal world might have been getting to Seven, for he began to grow impatient. If Mulan didn't show up soon, he'd have to hunt her down himself.

His head jerked up as he eyed Fa Zhou in a whole new light. Why, what better way to get close to Mulan than to possess her father? The insult would make her defeat sting all the more.

Chien-Po nearly cracked his teacup on the table.

"I'm sorry to cut this short," he said coldly, "but I have business."

"I wouldn't advise getting up," said Fa Zhou matter-of-factly.

Seven grinned wolfishly at his prey. "My business, old man, has become _you!_"

He leapt to his feet—

—or tried to.

In a movement like a striking snake, Fa Zhou brought the armrest of his crutch to bear on the side of the table and shoved. His strength was still enough to push the entire table forward, directly into Seven's kneecaps.

It was timed perfectly. Seven let out a howl of pain.

"Mulan is not coming," said Fa Zhou in the same tone as he would say, "Pass the noodles."

Seven reached for his sword. Fa Zhou reversed his grip on the crutch, caught the teapot by the handle, and flung the hot liquid full into Seven's face.

"Aaahhh!"

While Seven was frantically trying to clear his vision, Fa Zhou levered the table at an angle with his walking stick and moved beneath it. The moment Seven had pulled his hands away from his eyes, Fa Zhou kicked the table with his good leg. The heavy wood collided with Seven's face. Using the agility still in his arms, Mulan's father maneuvered out of the way while the table fell back into place. He came at Seven quickly and without mercy, and administered enough blows to make sure that the giant would not be rising to the fight anytime soon.

The clatter of a teacup hitting the floor made Fa Zhou drop reflexively into a crouch. Finding that it was his wife, he relaxed and, with a grunt of pain, used the crutch to help himself stand again.

The shocked Lady Fa looked at the very subdued form of Chien-Po.

"How—what—you?" She looked again at her husband. "_How?_"

Fa Zhou held up a hand. "I know," he said. "That fellow had two good legs on him, and I am crippled. It's a pity, then," he said, with a hint of gravel in his voice, "that he hadn't enough sense to stay out of a sitting position, where we were both on equal footing." He smiled reassuringly at Fa Li. "Please fetch some rope from the stables. I want to incapacitate him as much as I can."

Fa Li went out with alacrity, but not before she made a passing remark about Zhou being just as handsome in a fight as he had always been.

Mulan's father smiled. He preferred it when his enemies didn't fight fairly. Then he didn't have to, either—and woe to the one who crossed him then.

* * *

Seven came to after a few hours, and spent a few minutes cursing everything and everyone he could think of. He didn't have long, though.

Not far away, the statue holding Chien-Po's soul cracked…

...and Seven screamed as force like a wind tunnel ripped through him. Inexorable and pitiless, it tore Seven out of his stolen form and catapulted him heavenward.

"No," gasped Seven in disbelief. "No, NO!"

Though he was tied up, the body collapsed anyway, the energy sapped from each sinew.

He rushed up to towards the sky, against his will.

"Murderer," called a voice on the wind. "Woman-killer."

"No!" screamed Seven in mindless rage. "No!"

He saw Thunder God's weapon begin to form in the sky. With all his strength, he avoided the huge hammer head.

Then his luck ran out.

The lightning struck the spirit—only once, as lightning does, because once was more than enough.

* * *

Mushu climbed out of the last temple foundation, wheezing.

"Mushu, how are you holding up?" she inquired.

"Gr—GACK!—great, Mulan."

"I'm glad to hear it. Here's the situation."

Mulan told him about the dark fissure she and Shang had discovered, like a wound in the well. Guan's men must have been trying to widen the gap, she surmised. "Shang and I must've delayed them a little bit…let's hope these statues breaking will set Guan back even more."

"And just how are we going to fight Yumen Guan? Come on, Mulan, what's the plan?"

"There isn't one, not yet," Mulan lamented. "Not until we know for certain what we're dealing with. The only way to know that—"

"—Is to ride straight for trouble," Mushu finished.

"I'll assemble the men."

Should he tell her about Yumen Guan being a woman? Doubt overcame him. It might be difficult to focus if she knew. Heck, he still felt guilty for pointing out just how great the odds were against them.

In the end, Mushu decided to revert to his usual self. "Yeah, yeah, just shove little old me to the side now that you've got yo' fancy promotion. CAPTAIN now, hey?"

Mulan lifted the diminutive dragon up to her face and gave him a peck on top of his head.

"I'm glad you're all right. And Yumen Guan will get what he deserves for putting you in danger."

"Awww, I'd blush red if it weren't for the fact that I—"

Mulan looked over her shoulder at the sun. "We'd better hurry."

The dragon nodded reluctantly.

* * *

The last temple had cooled down and all the men were assembled, when Tang rode up unexpectedly.

"Urgent news?" said Mulan, unperturbed.

For answer, Tang merely held out the scroll.

Perusing it as rapidly as she could, Mulan's eyes grew wider and wider.

"Who sent this? And what are these names at the top of the scroll?" she demanded. To Mushu, she whispered, "Is Tang all right?"

"Yeah, he's still one of us," the dragon whispered.

"Those," said Tang, avoiding her eyes, "are the first few branches of the Li family."

Mulan could feel her jaw dropping, and closed her mouth before the men caught her staring.

"I'm afraid so," said Tang at her expression. "We had a renegade Li ancestor on the warpath. The one disguised as Captain Wan."

"Figures he'd be first in command after Yumen Guan," Mulan teased him.

Mushu looked from one to the other. "Did y'all have some bonding time I don't know about?"

"You could say that," said Mulan out of the corner of her mouth. To Tang, she said, "If you trust this information, then we'd better act on it. Men!" said Mulan. "Mount up."

"We'll have a hard time even getting to the site," said Tang unhappily. "Yumen Guan will no doubt post guards as soon as the spirits are out."

Mulan was only half-listening. "So, they'll still all be Imperial soldiers."

"That's right, more's the pity for us. Each of the spirits Guan plans to awaken will have been trained in service to the Emperor. Mulan?"

The captain looked to be in deep thought.

"Captain, the men are ready to move."

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry. Can you watch over them for a few minutes, Tang? I have to go to my father's house."

"Oh, Fa Zhou is fine," said Tang hurriedly. "I spoke to him just before I came here. Did you know he had a run-in with Chien-Po—and _won_?"

"No," said Mulan. "Then I'd _really _better go and check on him before I leave!"

"Mulan," said Tang, almost gently, "they're _all _well. We can't delay."

Mulan shook her head. "This isn't about that. There's something from home I think we're going to need."

* * *

It took Yumen Guan scant time to figure out why her men were reverting to their old selves one by one. The men themselves took a little longer...which was why, by the time they DID realize it, Yumen Guan had given the orders to report to the throne room and tie each other up. _You will be transferred into new bodies_, she lied to them, _and these soldiers' true selves will get in the way._

One by one, their spirits burst out of the bodies. Yumen Guan was infinitely glad that the statue housing _her_ spirit had been hidden by the well.

"Yumen Guaaan!" they wailed in betrayal as their blue-white forms were swept away.

"I'm sorry, dear children," said Yumen Guan unconcernedly. "Don't worry, though. You'll have others to replace you soon."

* * *

Without even blinking, Yumen Guan seized the first freed man's head. Shang's strong arms snapped his neck easily. No sense in leaving a trail of blood…

The next man to go was a lieutenant, then a member of the Emperor's council. At last, there was only one left: the ever-contentious Marshal. He was tied hand _and _foot, for security.

"Li Shang fights well, hand-to-hand," said the Marshal in a throaty voice. "Had you not deliberately tricked him, though, you might not have won. And _you_, woman. Quite a surprise, that I could be outdone by you, in the form of a kitchen maid. What did you place in my rice bowl that made me become the first victim? I never suspected."

"You were never meant to," said Yumen Guan coolly, readying Shang's hands.

But the Marshal was ready. Marshal Guo fell away from Guan and kicked his feet up. Guan grasped at her belly and cursed. Guo rolled away and Guan, eyes alight, drew Shang's sword.

The Marshal leaped to his feet and struck out. The blow fell short, but her blade sheared his sleeve in two.

Marshal Guo freed himself from his wrist restraints. Guan, fuming, prepared for a lunge.

The Marshal leapt.

Yumen Guan's sword slid cleanly between the Marshal's calves, severing the last of his bonds.

Guan gaped. How had he moved like that? But there was no time to think...

_The clay!_ Yumen Guan dipped into her pouch for her old last resort, but the Marshal delivered a spinning kick to her side. The clay dropped to the floor with a splat.

Yumen Guan knew when she had used up her luck. She ran. She understood that the Marshal had been fighting for survival; she had only been fighting to kill him. Retreat, and he would feel his wounds again.

She sprinted out of the palace, grateful to know that however skilled the Marshal was, he was not young enough to outrun the body of Li Shang. Her thankfulness ceased upon knowing that she had lost every one of the Imperial soldiers, and that without that guard, the respect her freed prisoners would have for her would dwindle precipitously.

Switching direction (she had gotten to know the corridors well), Yumen Guan followed a secret passageway down and out of the palace. Without any official orders, the men would do what they had been told. All things said and done, the Marshal was now completely alone in the palace except for the servants and Imperial concubines…and there were a hundred fifty rough men outside to greet him should he venture out of doors to stir up trouble.

Yumen Guan hurriedly calculated the date. It was twelve days before the Festival of Ghosts.

She rolled her eyes. "Of _course,"_ she gritted out. "She'll be able to ride here by then, won't you, Fa Mulan?" _I can't risk alerting the garrison outside the well, or they'll know that I'm now alone._

Someone else would have prayed to the family ancestors. Having none left, Yumen Guan was forced to rely entirely on her own ingenuity. Nor had this truly failed her. Despite the blows she had sustained (in more ways than one), the plan she'd had all along was relatively unchanged: get to the burial chamber and awaken the spirits on the morning of the Festival. Now that the men were at the well entrance, all she had to do was find another way in.

Li Shang's form, even outside the palace, had unlimited access to military supplies. Yumen Guan dashed away down the slick streets while the lightning followed but did not quite catch her. She bought a peddler's horse and cart (good thing Shang was wealthy), and used this to secretly store her arsenal of weapons, black powder, and the provisions she'd need for the time ahead. She crammed the uniform into the cart as well, disguising herself with a simple brown outfit.

A few hours' perspective as the cart meandered towards the east gave Yumen Guan the time she needed to measure her odds against those of her enemies.

It was not so very far to Guan country. There, she could hide. The land had not changed that much. There were hospitable clans who would take Shang in if needed, and little nooks in some of the hills where she could shelter and hide the cart from the tempests. If all else failed, her herbal knowledge might save her.

Twelve days only...but enough time to spare.

"I may have a day," she said thoughtfully, "for one last detour."

She nudged the nag with the reins.

Yes, there was sufficient time for a little visit to before the festival. She would not be followed or chased just yet. After all, the Marshal was only one man—alive but alone, in a room with the dead.

* * *


	13. Festival of Ghosts

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan_ or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Festival of Ghosts

_With the columns demolished, the roof came easily apart. The workmen stood away while her heaven and earth crumbled and fell on the dust-covered tombstones. These were harder to destroy: the stone was of good value, from the far reaches of the past when her family was burgeoning._

_Down came each tablet, too, dragged across her field in a rickety wagon. The two nameless men dumped them into the well. She heard each bang and crack of stone on the way down, the final splashes of the shards hitting the water. Then she was told to run along home, for the fire needed tending._

_The well water was still intact, so she walked to another well, farther away, when she had to fetch it for her new household. _Other_ wives went to that place. They would recline on the edge of what was, to her, a graveyard, would gossip as they lifted out the water that would have always tasted bitter to her. On occasion, a stone or two would surface, and the illiterate women would thumb it over, not knowing what it said, before discarding it like a broken fingernail._

_She was fourteen years old…_

…and with the passage of long years, death was still too kind for the Baos.

"Your presence graces this home," said the Bao family patriarch in humility as he motioned for a woman to bring Guan a second helping.

Yumen Guan used Shang's eyes to take in everything about the house. It was not the same, not at all. The latticework on the windows looked tangled, and the recesses and corners of the place were ill lit. She couldn't find herself here. The thought needled away at her, but she smiled. "I am happy to be here." Despite all of their treachery, she was.

"Where are you headed?"

Guan had wandered, restless as she had ever been as a soul, talking sporadically with her mother as she had journeyed east of the capital.

"Not far," she merely said.

"It surprised me that you brought no servants with you! Living off the land must have been rough."

She'd kept a low profile and stayed away from the cities, getting her meals from oblivious housewives charmed by the general's polite manners and good looks.

"I'm accustomed to it," said Shang's voice.

"The country is very beautiful here."

Yumen Guan nodded as she pictured him with blood pouring out of his ears. Oh, it was just a passing fancy. She'd thought it fitting, once, but had now thought of a much better method for purging this house of them. "Has your family always been on this beautiful land?" she asked gruffly.

"Why, yes, honored guest," he replied in an oily voice, and the family all around him nodded their agreement.

_He'll be the first, _thought Guan. She stirred the rice pudding absentmindedly.

Then the question came that decided her.

"What are your plans, General?" asked the Bao.

"Classified, I'm afraid," said Yumen Guan. "But if you like, I'll tell you my plans for _you." _

All the family leaned forward eagerly.

"I plan to drug you with a special potion I have laced your wine with. This has been accomplished, as you may begin to feel in a few short minutes. Bribing servants is so easy, these days! Next," she drew her sword, "I intend to make each and every male in this house a eunuch. That way, your wretched kin will not perpetuate its disgrace onto the earth of my father's. You will live out your days as I did: abandoned by both your past and future."

Not even a breeze stirred in the room. All the Baos were rigid with fright.

In a fit of sheer loathing, Yumen Guan showed her face. The spirit burst through Li Shang's form and stared them all down.

"Clan of the profane! Desecrators! Remember Yumen Guan!"

She receded back into her shell as her hosts began to keel over, one by one.

Satisfied with both dinner and the entertainment following, she let her chopsticks rest against the empty bowl. _Well, Mother, _she remarked,_ I heartily enjoyed the meal._

* * *

The dawn came quietly on the long-awaited day. Not even the dust from the road stirred as travelers returned to their roots for the festival. For the first minutes of daylight, the sky was empty of everything except the pale gold of the sun. Every well-planted field kept that color like a still lake. Then the clear sky was gone, weighted down by royal blue clouds that swept across the open earth of Guan land like smoke from a cannon.

It was Yumen Guan who'd fired first. She had ridden as close to the well as she'd dared, and had found just how much distance in discipline there was between these intimidating criminals and an Imperial force. An argument had sprung up over who had to stay awake for the watches, and instead of picking the men logically, the makeshift guards withheld from brawling by selecting two men that nobody liked to stand on the other side of the well.

This structure now propped the guards up, slumped as they were against it, weapons cradled lovingly even in sleep but ears not sharp enough to catch Li Shang's approach.

Yumen Guan rolled her eyes. This was _not _what she had paid them for. If she didn't know that Mulan would stop at the house of her blood enemy, she might be concerned about the path Mulan would take. But no: the new captain had to seek the shortest way, for time was running short.

Under the cloak of the weather, Yumen Guan stole carefully towards the well mouth. Every so often, she checked to make sure the men's backs were still to her.

After all these years, she still knew how to run a bucket up and down a rope as well as anyone. She carefully began lowering her stock of black powder towards the bottom.

That done, she backed away behind a lone tree and shut her eyes. The Festival of Ghosts made the spirits restless already: all she had to do was call to them.

She inhaled, set her mind in a meditative mood, and summoned her army.

_In the name of the family of Guan…_

* * *

Two days later than Yumen Guan, Mulan headed into the very same house. She had to compel the servants to admit her; even then, under orders, they weren't forthcoming.

_If Guan's already here, we'll know from them_, she'd said to the two men who flanked her. _Yumen Guan hates this family. _

How much, Mulan had yet to discover.

The estate was comparatively small and without character. The corners of the roofs sloped unevenly, and the paint dulled the appearance rather than enhanced it. It looked worn where it tried to seem venerable. It was not a good balance against the vast tracts of land it claimed to oversee. Mulan wondered if this were even the original dwelling that her foe so poignantly remembered.

The gates shut behind them as they passed through. Drapes concealed every window. Only the solemnity of the atmosphere made Mulan not fear an ambush. The mood was one of sadness, not suspense. No, whatever had happened here had been finished long before she arrived.

_Please, _Mulan thought with anguish as she approached the steps, _not more dead._

"Hello, there!" Mulan called to the silent house. "Is everyone all right? We're the real army, not the imposters. I—"

A member of the Bao family appeared, passed by her, gave her a half-glance, and went his way as if in a dream. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mulan waved to show her presence, but he did not even acknowledge her.

Mulan moved to intercept a younger son, but he, too, was silent. None even blinked at the soldiers' presence.

"Something happened to you," Mulan said gently. "I know he did something…"

It was no use. The gloomy house would not yield up its secrets.

"You will be held in contempt of the Emperor and his army," called Tang at her left, trying to break the numbing silence.

It did him no good. The family patriarch shrugged, as if such trivial concerns could not overshadow the magnitude of his suffering. Mulan could not fathom what must have happened to the men to make them so despairing.

Mulan took off her helmet. "Please, talk to me," she said softly. "We need information about Yumen Guan."

The elderly man turned his face away.

Hope of answers had all but vanished, when…

"Psst!" Mulan turned to see a young woman motion her towards the shadows at one end of the room. Leaving Tang to stand guard, Mulan went with her.

"You're Fa Mulan, aren't you?" she said mournfully.

Mulan nodded. "I'm here to help."

"You're too late. Yumen Guan has men set up all around the well. I looked. There are more than a hundred. What she did…" the woman explained the fate of the Baos. "She came here, you see…" the woman's voice faltered. "…to end our family line."

Mulan cut through her story to one significant word.

"_Who _came here?" Mulan said in disbelief.

"Yumen Guan," repeated the woman. "She—"

"She?" Hope soared in Mulan. "You mean, Guan has left the soldier's body and taken the form of a woman?"

The woman shook her head. "No, Captain. _She. _She, the spirit."

Mulan leaned against the table to steady herself.

"She showed herself to us, just for a moment. Her hatred of our line runs deep. Her eyes burned so brightly…" the woman shut her own against the memory. "She called us desecrators, and she told us to remember her name."

Mulan leaned forward, all shock forgotten. "What _was_ her name?"

Now, the woman showed a trace of irritation. "Haven't you been listening? This is the third time I've mentioned Yumen Guan."

"Madam," said Mulan, "I'm sorry, but that can't be her real name. Guan is this soul's family name. Yumen Guan—the Jade Gate Pass—that's a nickname to avoid recognition."

_If it was her family name,_ in the end, Mulan corrected herself. _She was probably married at one point._

"You mean," said the woman in astonishment, "after all that, she didn't give us her real name? She revealed her face but not her identity?"

Mulan drew back, shaking her head, trying to find out what her opponent was up to. "It must have been deliberate. At a time like that, it can't have slipped her mind."

With a start, Mulan remembered exactly how long the spirit of Yumen Guan had been wandering.

"Could it?"

* * *

_In the name of the family of Guan, open your ears and eyes as if for the first time. I am giving you life again, my children. The labor has been long, but I've done it out of love. We have watched over you always, we Guans of this land._

Far down below the earth, on the other side of the whispering crevice in the well, a low, shifting sound hummed through the air.

_It is time, soldiers, _they heard in their minds.

One blue-white form blinked into awareness, speaking in its ancient dialect.

"Time hath turned slowly, yes?" it said into the empty cavern.

No, not empty. Another soul joined it.

"Thou hast been in deep slumber, friend," said its comrade.

_Awaken, and sweep over the face of Xi'an!_

"A call to arms!" The spirit drew its insubstantial sword.

_By the word of the Emperor of Qin, take the forms of the living!_

Others awakened.

_We serve in his name!_

"In the name of the Emperor," intoned the spirits.

A younger warrior swiveled his head. "That fosse from outside," he said. "Daylight. It appeareth not in my memory."

_Find your way out…mold this into your home again._

They were decided.

"Make ye ready, men!" the long-dead general shouted.

One by one, the forms filtered from the grave into the cold, dark morning.

* * *

It was noontime when Mulan's men made their final push to the ancient well of Guan.

For nearly two weeks, they had ridden hard, fighting the heat all the way north and east, where it lessened only slightly this late into summer. There was nowhere to run from the heavy air that had dogged them for the past week. This morning, however, had been unlike all the rest. The heat shrank away from the enormous thunderclouds roiling overhead.

As one, the men slowed their mounts.

"I suppose this weather spares you the announcing of our arrival," Tang pointed out.

Mulan tried to smile. "The fanfare wasn't necessary, really," she said. "I'll tell the locals to tone it down next time."

She'd tied her hair back firmly, but it was her helmet that kept the hair out of her face as the wind rocketed across the plains. The air that should have been stifling and hot was now completely gone. Instead, her recruits were shivering so hard their armor rattled. Every comfort and warmth was snatched away, gone to feed the frenzied anger of Thunder God.

The sky was black no more; it was green. Sickly clouds clotted the sky as the grass bent low in waves around them. None of this touched Mulan, though: she was assessing her men, who were upright in their saddles and keeping their horses calm.

They didn't yet know how strong they would have to be to see this through, but going through the storm full-tilt made their captain proud.

"Yumen Guan's guards," Tang noted, spotting the line of hulking shapes ahead of them.

Freed prisoners stood against the cavalry three to one, and were all shoulder to shoulder, a ragged line of violence.

Mulan was not afraid to shout. The wind would keep the words from her enemies. "These, troops, are no soldiers. Do you see all the holes in that line? We're aiming for the biggest," she marked it, "there. Form a point! Crumble their line, and when they're demoralized, finish them. There may be spirits on the other side of the well. All you need to do is keep your steeds under control, just as I told you."

She pressed the phoenix to her heart under the pretense of tugging her cape tie.

Her sword flashed out.

"CHARGE!"

The convicts hadn't thought to bring archers. It was just a line of men, and a wedge of mounted Imperials.

"Hyah!" Mulan urged Khan on, and felt him surge forward in a rush of energy.

The enemy's long blades were set in front of them.

Yumen Guan's men saw where she was heading, and rushed to close the gap, but Mulan took out her bow and arrow, fired, bent low in the saddle, and urged Khan into a great leap.

Boom!

On the cusp of a thunderclap, she cleared the line.

Khan, unharmed by the weapons, kicked his front hooves into the chest of the nearest man. They landed on the other side and made straight for the well just as her men breached the gap behind her. The press forced the criminals back, but their swords were still out and there was work to be done.

She couldn't afford to wait for her men. If the spirits were awake, she and she alone could reason with them.

Like lightning, she rode for the well. The clouds unleashed rain all around her; she could barely see now.

"Mushu!" she called. "Are your eyes better than mine in this light?"

"Straight on ahead, girl! You'll see the glow in a moment; I think they _want _to be found."

There, at last! A soul was just seeping out, stretching his arms like he'd been napping all this time. Mulan galloped forwards—

—another rider was closer.

Mulan felt her heart sink. Li Shang met her, face to face, horseman to horseman.

Mushu tugged frantically at her collar, his eyes an unmistakable gold. "Mulan!"

The woman warrior halted Khan and stared at him. They were close enough now that the rain didn't matter.

"She's still in there, isn't she?" said Mulan to her guardian.

He stopped tugging. "Yeah," he said disconsolately. "I'm really sorry."

"It's all right," said Mulan as steadily as she could.

Another translucent form was straining through the crevice like smoke. Mulan could not delay any longer.

A shrieking laugh left Shang's lips.

Mulan dismounted, as did he.

Guan looked amused. "Do you understand what happens to your general if you kill me?"

"Fully." She drew her sword deliberately from its sheath.

* * *

_Well, well_, thought Guan. Here was a thing: herself, in the body of a better fighter, with all of its reflexes, but none of its memories. Mulan, less polished, less strong, and hating to hurt her general. Yet in her own true self she stood.

Pretending at nonchalance, Guan uncovered a lantern and began to lower it down after the bundle of confiscated fireworks and cannons.

Mulan was first on the attack. The moment Guan blocked her strike, Mulan understood just how much Shang had held back in his training sessions with the Wu Zhong camp. Only in their training sessions together had he pitted his strength against her in what approached Guan's fighting now.

There—a strike to her chin! Mulan countered it, but he took her off her feet regardless. She rolled neatly to a crouch. If that hit had happened, she'd be on her side.

_Gods. I can't block him._

Yumen Guan saw this, too, and went for a bear hug.

Mulan turned fast and quick as a matter of survival. She ducked, drove one, two hits into Guan's unprotected side. Guan pivoted to the right and tried to lash out from the back, but Mulan dodged this and turned a foot towards his head. Guan moved—not enough. She had struck a blow to Shang's temple.

Her next kick was caught between his forearms. She used them as an anchor and spun-kicked him again as he tried to rise. As he fell back, she steadied on her feet again, breathing hard.

She ducked as he flipped over her head. She lashed out as he came down—missed. Guan's hammer strike nearly shattered her teeth, but she ducked and took it too high. Now Guan had Mulan's back to the well, and every instinct was telling Guan to force her through the entrance, down and down and down.

A rock caught at Mulan's heel, and she faltered for a moment. Guan grinned like a fiend, moved in, and—

—was too close.

Mulan braced her arms against the well, tucked in both feet and double-kicked him right in the collarbone. She brought his head down to her height with a boot to the stomach and snapped his chin back up with left, right strikes to his jaw.

Shang's head lolled back, stunned, his neck exposed.

"Hah!"

She rammed her hand against his windpipe.

Pain! Pain, suffocation, mortality as Guan had all but forgotten it. Gasping choking, coughing, Shang's hands still groping for Mulan's head and finding nothing, Guan fell back.

Was it enough? He had moved, only a little, only the tiniest bit. It was just enough to save Guan's life.

They broke apart, and were about to start again, when a blast of heat and light rocked them both. Right above the hollows in the earth, the explosives had weakened the well walls.

In the shower of rocks, Guan still sought her enemy, but was entirely caught up in the torrent of stone and mud. Together, they fell, the broken earth battering their sides but cushioning the landing.

It had worked. The entrance was now open to the sky. The tomb had been breached. Her army waited.

Yet all this did not soothe Yumen Guan. She now knew the extent of Mulan's dedication to her homeland. There would be no pity, no quarter, no matter whose body Guan was in.

Fa Mulan had gone for the throat.

* * *

Grappling hand and foot, they plunged into the maw of the burial chamber.

Mulan heard the spirits before she saw them. Rubbing the dust from her eyes, she coughed and heard an answering whisper—a hundred whispers. The winds of that day were funneling down the break in the burial ground, but Mulan could tell that this place still belonged to their time, to _them. _There was no surface she touched that did not vibrate with the weight of the once-trapped ghosts.

A few flickers of fire were still visible from the blast, and even through the smoke, she could detect Guan's imposing form, standing upright with thousands and thousands of souls at her back.

They _were_ all soldiers, as she'd suspected, every one outfitted to perfection.

The general of them all rose past Guan and hovered above her, his eyes mere slits as they assessed her worth. He wasted no time in his verdict.

"Not worth taking."

Mulan willed her voice not to quiver while she was under his beady eyes.

"Soldiers under Imperial authority!" called the woman warrior, the dank air sucking the sound from her voice. "I summon you to abide by your word and keep this land from harm."

Yumen Guan smirked. _What game is she playing? _Mulan knew Guan was asking herself.

_Go on, Yumen Guan. Take a gander at it. I'm not playing fair, this time._

They hissed at her.

"We shall serve the Emperor always, and thee, never," the ghost-general spurned her. "Who art thou, child, that thou bringest thy petulance hither, pretending at power?"

He pointed to her enemy.

"A true warrior abideth with us presently," he said. "Keep him in thy ken, lest thou flatter thyself a true slave of the Imperial yellow."

"I'm more than his subject," Mulan answered, deliberately ignoring Guan. "I speak as with his mouth."

"Believe ye not the snake-tongued one, O spirits!" replied Shang's voice with a deadly smile.

Guan relaxed her iron pose as she saw that the spirits were clearly on her side. She mockingly made Shang pout. "O foolish Mulan, why didst thou follow me? Now thy friend must plunge his sword into thy breast and kill thee quite dead."

"He'll find my heart well-protected," said Mulan. She did _not _draw her sword.

The cantankerous spirits knotted around Yumen Guan so that Shang was backlit, a black contour, a shadow only. Guan's voracious eyes were the last to be shadowed.

If the worst had to happen between them, at least—

Her thought went unfinished. With a howl of anger, the spirits flew at her. They devoured the distance like tongues of white fire. They wanted to bury her alive with them.

They reached—

She thrust a hand into a pouch and brought forth the most powerful weapon of all.

The straining spirit-fingers stopped inches from her face. She held it higher, so that all of them could see it.

Mulan had brought the crest of the Emperor.

She brushed off Yumen Guan's outraged gasp and spoke only to the spirits.

"Soldiers of the Middle Kingdom, it is good that you have awakened. The way out is now free…you may return to your home temples as soon as you finish your mission."

"Mission?" said a group of spirits, eyeing Mulan with more curiosity than anger.

Mulan nodded solemnly. "As the one who bears the Emperor's crest, you know that I have his favor. The Emperor's orders are to apprehend a wanted criminal and bring him to justice. Yumen Guan is that man."

Guan guffawed. "I don't think their sense of duty extends that far. Go one, then. Tell them all how _criminal _it is for me to be here, for them to move over the face of China! Tell them that what we have wanted for centuries is wrong!"

Mulan gave a small shrug and did her best to sound indifferent. "That does not fall under my purview. The spirits here have yet to commit any sort of crime against the Emperor. I am only here for you."

Mulan moved her final piece on the game board.

"Yumen Guan is charged," said Mulan to the rest, "with desecrating family temples of innocent villagers in Yu-Wen."

Silence.

"That was _you!_" lied Guan in desperation. "You were the one who dug—"

"No," said Mulan. "We people of Yu-Wen found a way to break the clay without undermining our values. Of course, all of the evidence is still buried there," she said, turning to the spirits. "All one has to do is look beneath the temples to find statues, just like yourselves, in every shrine but one."

Lightning flashed from above, and the Emperor's medallion gleamed gold. The spirits held their breath.

"Yumen Guan is also wanted for hiring thugs, for looting and pillaging around several villages in Hubei province…"

A rumble of anger began to emanate from the dead.

Mulan made a show of thinking hard.

"…let's see, there was another charge here…what was it?"

Too late, Guan unsheathed her sword and moved towards Mulan.

"…ah, that's right, it slipped my mind for a moment," said Mulan sweetly, drawing out the suspense. "Forgive me; as you see, a woman's mind is no match for a situation such as this."

_**"Tell!" **_they demanded of her.

Guan was now within inches of her.

Mulan waited just a moment more before deliberately placing a delicate finger on the image of the Imperial dragon. "Now it's come back to me," she said, her whisper echoing through the quiet chamber. "Yumen Guan murdered a family guardian with his own two hands."

She thrust the medal in front of her foe.

"Say I lie, Yumen Guan!"

Guan's only answer was to leap at Mulan, sword outstretched. Mulan only just avoided the blade, but Guan's fury knew no bounds. Mulan had had no time to prepare a defense, so important was her speech. In next to no time, Guan had tackled her to the dirt, and avoiding Mulan's fists, grabbed a clump of earth and shoved it against Mulan's face.

It was all right, Mulan told herself. Her work had been done.

Uproar broke out around them.

Thunder God's curse bore down on her spirit. Mulan, unlike the others before her, did not surrender to hopelessness. She fought on, hanging tightly to her own identity and clasping close all things that made her unique.

_This is not the end. I will _not _give my body to Guan. I am Mulan. __I am Fa Mulan. I am Fa…_

She could feel a tug at her soul, something pulling her out of her real body. She closed her eyes, thought of her hands, her own eyes and mouth and beating heart.

The pull strengthened; Mulan still fought. With every grain of will she could muster, she fought Yumen Guan. Around her, the spirits grew angrier and angrier with her enemy. Mulan's eyes darkened—someone screamed—the wind was cold and impenetrable—

* * *

—The ghost-light of the cavern swam into focus before Shang's eyes.

He remembered nothing since that blind fight with the false Marshal Guo. As he got his bearings, the question of what he was doing here became abundantly clear. All around him was a frozen sea of brown forms. Each was finely-crafted, each tweaked slightly to resemble a true living being. He was entombed with them.

Around and to the side and above him, the myriad souls were arguing.

"—son of the family that owns this land!"

"—cannot say for certain—"

"—murdered a guardian, for Qin's sake!"

Shang forced himself into a sitting position. Whoever had combated him last had put up a good fight. Discreetly, he tried to cough away the soreness of his throat. Unfortunately, this attracted their attention faster.

In a swarm, they swooped toward him, demanding answers. They told him all that Mulan and Yumen Guan had said.

"You should trust Mulan, and not Guan," Shang told them bluntly. "Please believe me. Though she is young and a woman—"

"Waste not thy voice," said the presumed commander officiously. "She had our trust from the moment she showed us _that_."

He nodded to an object half-covered in the dirt by Shang's feet, signs of struggle all around it. Using his foot to brush the dirt away, Shang saw immediately what it was.

He looked from the medallion to the lost souls in disbelief.

"We serve the Emperor," said the commander. "Yumen Guan would give us false orders using the name of Qin, but we now see that he must be long dead, and we as well. After we fulfill our orders, our desire is for our kin's temples alone."

Rubbing his throat again, Shang frowned at them. "Then why were you arguing?"

"We do not know how to pursue them."

"Them?" Shang looked hard at the commander. "Where's Mulan?"

"Behind you. Taken."

Darkness nearly claimed Shang again as he turned around and saw the dreadfully still form of Mulan, her face half-covered with dirt.

She did not breathe.

Shang dove for her, as Guan had done, but his grip was gentle and his hands painstakingly light as they moved over her head and neck, trying to discern the cause of death.

Death. Mulan's—

_**NO! **_

Her skin was ashen, her muscles stiff...

_She won't. I will NOT let her—_

...where was the wound?

That thought saved Shang from the madness of grief.

He removed her armor and checked for bloodstains, for blows to the head, for broken bones. Nothing...yet he was the only one alive in the cavern.

Over his anguish, a realization forced its way through.

Shang's head snapped up. "That can't be!" he said. "If I'm the only one...alive...where did Guan go? Mulan shouldn't be dead; Guan should be in her body!"

The commanding spirit said only, "She was too strong. She refused to be possessed. They were both forced out of their forms. That is how we know thee to be a friend."

He gazed heavenward. "Up there, General."

She never would stop amazing him, would she? Even now.

Guan hadn't won; it had been a draw. Mulan's form below hadn't changed to clay; not one eyebrow had been harmed.

Shang whipped his head right and left, tried to discern her spirit just in case the dead general was mistaken, but neither she nor her enemy could be found. He peered out at the warring sky, but could discern nothing.

Where were they?

* * *

Mulan's spirit was yanked up and out of her body with the force of a gale. Looking down at her own form in despair, she tried to reach for it…

…and was stopped as someone clung to her in the air above her.

Mulan's spirit whirled around in astonishment. She had done it. Her enemy's spirit was out, too!

Hovering there, with the same burning eyes, with hands clasped together, was a short and unrepentant and truly formed Yumen Guan.

The spirit world clothed her in a bridal dress, but before the veil was placed on her head. It told Mulan that her foe's last moments as a Guan were the last in which she had truly lived, no matter what had transpired afterward.

Beneath the red silk cap, Yumen Guan's hair was pulled snugly back around her temples, exposing a softly rounded face into which were set two gleaming black eyes and a cutting, dark red mouth. Her small chin was proudly high; her bearing could have been cast from bronze.

She fixed Mulan with a rigid glare.

"You, too."

Mulan could feel the anger building in her limbs. "What?"

"You're different than you were down there." Her mouth gave Mulan a biting smile; her eyes stayed dark. "Are you sure you can keep a hold on your identity?" She gave the storm around them an appraising nod. "If you don't or can't, you'll never last. Believe me."

The gusts barreled into Mulan from behind, streaming through her spirit self and pulling her towards the worst of the rain and lightning. She struggled for balance.

"You're about to belong to another family, aren't you?" said Guan. "Just like I was, yes? Is that who you'll become, or who you already are? _Fa _Mulan...for how long?"

Mulan responded by trying to grab hold of Yumen Guan.

Guan laughed and seemed to shimmer. She became immaterial to the touch and slipped free of Mulan's grip. Mulan's arm snapped out reflexively, and Yumen Guan solidified in time to grab her rival by the wrist.

Mulan looked down into that dark grin.

"A matter of will," explained the spirit.

She shoved Mulan back into the heart of the storm.

Raw fury from the heavens poured around the warrior woman, the rain so intense that it gouged into the ground below. Mulan, in spirit form only a small breath of air, was thrown and whirled around like a minnow in a maelstrom. It was easy, so easy to lose oneself in the momentum and frenzy of Thunder God. Yumen Guan's cold hands were keeping her there, just inside the worst of the tempest. Mulan tried desperately to think. If she became like air, she would be swept away entirely. If she stayed solid, there would be no escape. She couldn't think...she could only feel...

What _did _she feel? As solid as her spirit now was, she felt heavy. There was weight bearing down on her head, shoulders and waist.

_You, too. You look different, here, _Guan had said.

Mulan beheld her own body, in its truest form. _Yumen Guan, you should not have asked a riddle that I am prepared to answer._

Fa Dang had his head. First Ancestor had his walking stick. As she was, Mulan had all of her armor, her sword at her side, and Shang's phoenix: not tucked under her shirt, but firmly on her sword belt. Taking its place at her heart was the crest of the Emperor.

She thought of Shang, with his generous heart and unquenchable integrity. He did not break down her sense of self, but enriched it.

_I love him, _she knew then._ And I am _not_ him._

Fa Mulan emerged from the storm.

Quite abruptly, she was struggling with Yumen Guan again. Guan had wanted to cut her to the quick, but Mulan went deeper than that.

_What about _her_ name? _Mulan thought in retaliation.

Mulan built up her spirit with the knowledge. Gaining her internal force, she leaped into the writhing air, moved with the wind, and hurtled towards Yumen Guan. Even insubstantial, Guan was carried inside the clutches of the clouds from the momentum.

"How dare you demand my name? _You_ don't have one name left…not a single one," Mulan announced. "The name Yumen Guan is a fiction. The Baos told me how you failed to reveal your true identity. You've forgotten too much over the span of your wanderings. You won't get your triumph through a weakness of mine. You'll have to try your strength against me."

Yumen Guan drew her lips back from her teeth in a snarl. "I'll gladly do that."

"Then, if you'll leave off word games," Mulan growled, "let's see justice done."

Crash!

They both looked up, and saw the head of a hammer materialize through a morass of black clouds. It hung, suspended, right over their heads, its burnished surface longer than Mulan was tall. Had she called it here? She couldn't say.

With or without substance, Yumen Guan and Mulan were in danger. One strike from that weapon would finish them both. Yet with a target right below it, the hammer stayed frozen in the air, not even vibrating with the great sounds of thunder.

Mulan didn't wait for her enemy to recover. She heard only an echo of Shang's voice.

_The reason you are so very dangerous, Mulan, is that you can tell in what direction an opponent will move—and _why_._

Mulan _knew _where Guan would go: straight down, in a plummet. At the very end, Guan would flee.

Then she did...for three long seconds.

"Thunder God!" came Guan's cry, like a curse. "You won't get—"

In the nick of time, Mulan seized her as the soul swept past—she latched right under Guan's chin. Guan gave herself more substance to fight off Mulan. She was ethereal…she was corporeal…

The warrior woman reached towards and right_ through_ Yumen Guan's neck, hooking her by the head like a fish.

"Argh!"

Caught!

With Yumen Guan's head tucked under her arm, Mulan forced them both up, up, straining for a collision with the hammer.

Guan still fought. Tried to become vapor—

—and found out she had not seen all there was to the real Mulan.

"Who…what…what's on me?"

"Think that's my cue!" exclaimed a very gleeful Mushu, having hopped from behind Mulan's head onto Yumen Guan's back. His eyes were as golden as fire sparks, and he sported an ear-to-ear grin.

Distracted, as Mulan hauled her up, Guan tried instinctively to flick Mushu away.

"You were dead!" Guan shrieked.

"Girl, that makes two of us!"

Mushu leapt on top of her head, obscuring Guan's vision.

"Get—you—stop—"

"Say the magic word…"

"I think I know one," Mulan broke in.

Guan finally kicked away Mushu, too late.

"THUNDER GOD!" Mulan shouted.

Guan's concentration broke down. She tried to break free, again and again, but Mulan held her firmly to her fate. Then it was the hammer, the hammer bearing down on all that she'd become, and it filled her vision, and her whole world was fear.

Guan wailed and thrashed her arms against Mulan, all her energy for her enemy and none for herself. Still, she could not escape. Mulan now had her, possessed her as Yumen Guan had always done to others, and Guan could not get control.

The hammer was feet away, and as real as flesh and bone.

With a cry, Mulan channeled her strength into her arms, hauled Guan skyward, and flung her against the unbreakable judgment.

Guan's head struck the iron full on.

She did not scream. She was too tired for pain. She had sold all her strength, bit by bit, and now she could only diminish.

The hammer sapped the light from Yumen Guan's soul. The threads of her gown's sleeves were shredded, her shoes torn apart. Her arms and legs darkened, faded. She was no longer a being, but a fragment. She was half an old scroll out of history.

Mulan felt herself falling, being drawn back to her own living form, and knew that she would breathe again.

Far above her, now, the light of Guan was all but gone. Then, there was only her voice, and the bright, bright burning eyes.

In a voice centuries old, Mulan was addressed.

_This soul was wrung from its corpse before I knew freedom. Curse thee that thou hast lived in thine own time! May thy bones rot inside another's house all thy life. Thou and thy children will serve others; thy ancestors gone unworshipped. I shall look to the time when..._

The wind swallowed all else.

A tempestuous spirit, Yumen Guan, but she was borne away like a thread.

* * *

Mulan's armor lay to one side. Shang was cradling her in his arms. Seven thousand voices drifted his way, yet he thought he'd gone deaf. She had her own battle, now, and there was nothing else to be done.

Head bent, he didn't see the life slip back into her body.

Before she'd even breathed, she clasped his hand.

"Mulan!"

She looked haggard, like she'd wrestled with Thunder God himself. Her hair was matted and sweat now beaded her brow. Her eyes were feverishly bright.

"Oh, Shang," she said softly. "They're gone."

She tried to tell him what had happened, but there weren't enough words for either her or him. The spirits had paused to witness their reunion, but somehow (though it hurt) Shang found the last of his voice.

He quirked a smile. "You know, you're very cute with mud on your nose."

Mulan inhaled deeply, got back her strength, and fastened her arms tight around him.

He laughed in relief—oh, she was so close and warm!—and then felt something near Mulan's heart driving into his armor. He grumbled at something so absurd spoiling the moment.

"What's this?" he had to ask.

He felt Mulan tense, felt her heart pound.

Mulan abruptly pulled away from him. "Oh, oh, it's, um—"

A terrible thought hit him.

"_Wait_." He stood up. "If you're really Mulan, you have to tell me what it is. Yumen Guan wouldn't know. Only _she_ would."

Acutely aware that he could have shared this moment with a murdering traitor, he set his jaw.

Mulan looked at him in panic.

He folded his arms across his chest uncompromisingly.

"Well?"

She bit her lip. "Shang, it's really nothing…maybe there's some other way that we can..."

Shang drew his sword. "So, you won't answer, Yumen Guan. This time, you will _not _escape."

"No!" Blushing dreadfully, Mulan shook her head. "It's me, really! Please don't—it's a personal—"

_"What has Fa Mulan hidden?"_

Eyes like steel, he raised his sword. "I know she would rather be dead than prisoner to you."

Still, the woman he'd thought was Mulan was silent. She only scooted back a little and clenched her hands.

"Hey, HEY!" a voice complained. "Didn't we already do this scene?"

A long, red tail wrapped itself around Shang's hand. He looked down to see Mushu, whose nostrils were smoking in anger.

"Thought y'all had solved all that way back when!" snorted the dragon.

Shang retorted, "She could be Yumen Guan!"

"Look deeeeeply into my eyes," Mushu intoned in reply.

The general raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Good, you're lookin'. Now, do ya see a golden glow?"

"Uh...no…"

"Right." Mushu leaped up and tapped Shang on the head. "THAT means that Mulan is once again starring as Herself! She's the real McCoy! She's..." seeing Shang's concerned look, "she's _okay_, big guy. Yumen Guan's gone for good."

"Truly?"

Mushu nodded. "Otherwise, I'd still have glow-in-the-dark pupils! ...It's a guardian thing."

The real Mulan rose shakily to her feet. She was most of the way there when Shang dropped his sword and lifted her.

Mulan couldn't help smiling as he pressed her to him. "Shang, you're being wonderful, but I really don't need this."

He brought her closer, snug against chest. "_I_ do."

"Oh." The blush was back again. "Oh, I, well. I guess I'd better..." she wiggled her way out of his embrace. "I'd better see to the men, you know. There are bound to be a few stragglers giving them trouble. I'll...oops, stupid rocks...give you a full report as soon as I finish getting them in hand!"

She half-waved to him, looking sheepish, and began scaling the side of the dirt pile she and Guan had left behind.

Shang stared after her, completely at a loss.

"I did something wrong, didn't I? What was it?" He clapped a hand to his head. "Why did she risk imprisonment or death by refusing to talk to me? Why wouldn't she tell me what she hid?"

Mushu shrugged and skittered away, following his charge up the muddy slope.

"Beats me, Shang!" he called back down into the pit. "I think she was just confused after that big huge battle. I mean, what's the big deal with you seein' your own jade phoenix?"

* * *


	14. Succession

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _Mulan _or any of its characters, plotlines, etc.

Many thanks to Akari Kou for a wonderful beta read.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Succession

It was the day of the Ghost Festival, and latecomers to Xi'an rallied in the markets to purchase the best goods of the day while they could. The food would be fed to any hungry ghosts who happened to be about. Prayers flew thick and fast from the lips of the people, an elite few before grand temples and the majority before smaller but well-kept family shrines. Purveyors of incense fast ran out of their best varieties and judiciously raised their prices for that day. Later in the evening, more men and women would retreat to their homes, but for now, the streets were teeming with life.

An occasion for solemnity, the festival's significance was nevertheless overlooked in some circles. Many of the less spiritually inclined spent this day frittering away their money and debauching in the taverns. Quite a few, in fact, disgraced their ancestors more thoroughly on this day than on any other in the year.

Most people were engrossed in household affairs, so scarcely anyone noticed the dark carriage with a small retinue dressed plainly in brown. It made its way steadily to the heart of the Imperial City, halting only when ordered to, though not rushing for fear of discovery.

The carriage's sole occupant, who had not drawn his attention away from the window in quite some time, at last relented and folded his hands reflectively. No doubt remained in the Emperor's mind: his people were completely oblivious to the dangers still present within the cloistered walls of his palace. At least part of Yumen Guan's scheme was still in place, whether or not she'd truly had the final word.

Still, luck could be on their side yet. The Emperor had recently received a new scroll, passed to him through a messenger of Li Tang, though written in an ancient hand. From this, he pieced together most of his soldiers' plans, as well as those of his foes. He knew the war would soon end, and there was only one way to tell who was victor, many miles away...

A sunbeam broke through the clouds that had been brewing.

The Emperor looked out to the east and smiled. It was time for them _all _to return home.

* * *

Far above the ancient tomb, the summer light wrestled with the clouds and the wind fled away north, as if ashamed of itself. The humid warmth filled the air again, and the light splayed contentedly across the farmland.

The men had won. It was clear to her, now that she was no longer fighting Guan. Echoes from the earthen wall told her that hoofbeats dominated the field above. Yet neither weather nor victory affected Mulan. All she could see was the arduous slog ahead of her.

Heaped upon the hard climb, with its tenuous handholds, was the knowledge that _he _was staring at her. She couldn't turn back to make sure, but she just _knew _it. Exhaustion beat against her with every step, but Mulan was so preoccupied with staying away from Shang that she clamped down hard on her tiredness and refused to let it move her. The muscles in her back knotted as she thought of falling against him.

Her right handhold crumbled.

"I'm fine, I'm okay, don't worry about me, I found my footing!" she called.

"I can see that," he said dryly from below.

"Stop looking at me, you're making me slip!"

"You can't tell whether I'm looking at you or not," he answered smugly.

Mulan gave a grunt of exertion and firmed her hold on the left. She had been lucky enough to latch onto some of the steadier stones.

Leaning her forehead against the wall of rubble, she said, "You see? I'm fine. And I _know_ you're looking at me!"

"Just your legs," said Shang quietly. "I like them. But I'll stop if you'd rather I didn't."

Mulan's breath caught. _Did I hit his head too hard? _she wondered.

A rope snaked down in their direction. Mulan held on, gave two sharp tugs to confirm it was secure, and continued her ascent. "Shang, I think you need to rest before you make any more rash statements," she said as she inched back out of the cavern. "I've been through victories before. It pounds in your ears, makes you lightheaded…"

"Ahh. She thinks I'm battle-drunk," Shang said to no one.

Mulan rested her weight against her forearms as she paused in the climbing. "Just give it a few hours before deciding to talk like this again."

"Now she thinks I've said something I'll regret," Shang continued.

_Fine. I'll take this challenge. _Mulan turned her head as far as she could to look at him. "Why are you being this...demonstrative?"

Shang drew closer, an uncharacteristic smile on his face. "I've had a revelation." When Mulan inched away, he frowned and said, "I see that you've had one, too."

"I've been hammered," said Mulan, sore at heart. "Yumen Guan showed me the fate of my family if I...took the path I intended to take. Yu-Wen...I never told you what happened in my village..."

"'Scuse me, what's that?" asked a recruit as he reached down to assist Mulan.

"None of your concern," Shang said in a clipped tone. He leaned as close to her as he could and whispered, "Mulan, I want to know everything."

"You will. It just might be more than you want to."

They were both helped out of the hole, and for a moment they both looked down, peering at the glimmer of ghost-light that still washed through the burial mound. The men around them looked fearfully at the ruined well, but thanks to Mulan's training, they did not panic. In fact, their eyes were fixed on Mulan and Shang in ill-concealed relief. Mulan could tell from the way they surrounded her and Shang that the recruits trusted the two with their safety, even in this strange situation.

"Sir?" ventured the recruit.

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

"Er...captain," clarified the young man. "Pardon my asking, but...what happened to your armor?"

Mulan patted her sides. So much had happened in so few minutes...she hadn't noticed that her armor was nowhere to be found!

There was a gigantic _Whoosh! _behind her.

"If thou wilt permit."

Mulan whirled around and once again confronted the long-dead legions.

Their general was holding the armor. Now that the sun was out, his contours quailed by daylight, but he still carried some of his old grandeur on his shoulders. His large-knuckled hands, scarred and roughened, clasped the armor as if it were weightless. Such a token of approval from him touched Mulan immensely. The sting of removing her helmet before Chi Fu was dimming more and more.

Piece by piece, she reassembled her gear. Her recruits fanned out around her as the almost ceremonial garbing was completed.

The dead commander bade her about-face, and when she did so, the Emperor's crest slipped back down around her neck.

The men burst into cheers of triumph at the sight. A few of them tried to muffle the swearing of the captive mercenaries, who were somewhat less inclined to celebrate.

Mulan could have sworn she heard Shang say under his breath, "He should have let _me _do that."

_This from the man who told me "You fight good"? What did I do to make him believe so completely in my love for him?_

Putting that thought aside for the moment, Mulan looked her armorer in the eye. "The helmet…if I may?"

After what had happened, she didn't dare gaze at Shang, but she held the helmet up ("Make sure it catches the sun! Looks all dra-ma-tic that way!" Mushu insisted) and was about to stretch up to place it on Shang's head when he stepped close to her and, to everyone's amazement, bowed.

For one embarrassing moment, Mulan froze, her hands and the helmet suspended.

"Shang, I can't...stop that, I really can't..."

"You saved us," he whispered back. "Go on."

Flustered, she was about to refuse, when he said pointedly, "Am I going to have to make this an order?"

"Nosir!" Mulan said in a breath and lowered the helmet onto his head.

A cheer rose up, though muted. The men could sense that there was still work to be done.

After he'd been restored to his proper rank, Shang told them that it would be necessary to wrest back control of the Emperor's palace. He commanded a three-hour rest period so that they could account for the dead and set up care for their wounded. The men, weary, knew also that the coming battle would mark the end of this war.

When Shang had delegated the more mundane operations, he sought out Mulan and led her away from the rest of the men.

"You fought well," were his first words.

"Thank you, sir, but I owe thanks to my cavalry as well for—"

"I meant, against _me_." He rubbed his throat ruefully. "You almost had me."

Mulan sidled a bit closer. "Am I demoted?" she asked tentatively.

"No. But if you hadn't struck me, you would have been. You _know_ that a captain's first duty is to his country," he admonished. "I was a threat at the time. Which brings me to..." He spread his hands. "Yumen Guan. How _did_ you defeat him?"

Mulan laughed uncomfortably. "_She _went down only after a hard fight."

Shang gaped. "Another warrior woman?"

"Another strategist," Mulan corrected him. "She was tutored in war by centuries of bodiless exile. It was enough to divest her of all empathy." Her eyes followed the burgeoning sunlight through the clouds. "We fought to the very end. Thunder God judged her; it was too much for her to bear. All I did was make her face what she'd done."

Shang gave her a sideways smile. "In other words, without you, even Thunder God was powerless to stop her. The men should be carrying you on their shoulders!"

"They might have to. I can barely stand."

Without another word, Shang helped her to the fork of a small tree, where she leaned against the boughs gratefully. Both wanting to be alone with their thoughts, Shang patted Mulan on the back and went to lay plans for retaking the palace.

* * *

Mulan watched as the clouds curled up and lifted away from the plateau, going to replenish their stores of rain higher, on the other side of the tall hills. The welts in the ground from the huge torrents were closing, but still visible. Any birds there were too fearful to show themselves yet, and lightning had scarred a good portion of bare earth. Glittering droplets slid off the scattered trees by the fields, but there was no rain. Only a thin skirt of mist dampened the ground.

Flash! A figure darted out of her imagination...a smoking man of mist, grabbing at an old woman's basket for her treasures.

She heard the cries of her town all over again.

_I am glad you've found out all you needed to know! _a mocking Guan called to her memory.

Mulan shook herself out of her trance. It was over, and yet not.

All she'd needed to know was more than she wanted to. She had brought Guan to the hammer of justice, but at the same time, Guan had struck _her _against the anvil of truth. Her whole future was shaped upon it: what would happen to her family if she threw caution to the wind and married Shang?

A tug at her hair reminded her that she wasn't alone in her reflection.

"Hey, Mulan, are there bugs in your armor or somethin'? From what I see, Shang likes you more than ever!" Mushu batted his eyelids. "He's _flirting_ with you. So…why isn't the man you've always wanted makin' any progress at all?"

"Oh, he is, Mushu, but I can't show him the way that I want." She balled her fists. "You were there with me. You saw what happened to Yumen Guan...what happened to her ancestral lands. How can I call myself a faithful Fa daughter if I let that happen to our family in my own lifetime? I'd lose everything...and so would you. Our line may come to an end, but at least I'll save my parents the pain of seeing it."

"But Mulan, you could gain everything, too! I ain't gonna be happy not to see you ever again, but _you_ can be happy. So can he if you get married, right?"

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Mushu, tell me the truth. You'd die, wouldn't you, when my parents and grandmother are gone and I wed him? Your spirit needs a temple to serve."

"Hey, now, it's not that bad..." almost inaudibly "...well, actually, it is..."

"I heard that."

"D'oh!" Mushu clapped a hand to his head. "Me an' my tongue...always gets away from me, too long for its own good..."

"It's okay, Mushu. It's not your fault and it's not mine, any more than it's your fault that Yumen Guan struck you down. That doesn't change the fact that it happened, and that the last thing I will ever do is help redo Guan's work." She held her head high. "We'll just have to live with this as best we can. And Shang and I..."

"If you say 'we can still be friends' I'm whangin' you on the head with your own family gong! You love that boy!"

"Yes Mushu, you know I do. A plan, I need a plan, I..." she covered her face with her hands. "I've been thinking about this, wanting this for so long, and it doesn't work!"

"All that AND fightin' Yumen Guan?" Mushu patted her back. "That's enough to fiddle with even for your head." He nudged her. "C'mon, you must be one step away from a dead faint. Imagine how embarrassing THAT would be after all of the honor and glory you just won! We'll get you back to the palace, Emperor's staff will look after ya, and you'll be back to your chipper old self again with enough brainpower to spare! Just don't call yourself a star-crossed lover 'til the constellations collide. 'Kay?"

Mulan gave him a wan smile. "I'll try. But you still can't lead him on, all right?"

Mushu smiled craftily. "Oh, no, I don't think I'll need to say one more word."

Mulan eyed him suspiciously, but after all, he was right. She'd fought all her battles, personal and public, in one day. She teetered on the edge of consciousness, and it was all she could do to stay upright until she got towards Khan.

* * *

The last of the prisoners had been rounded up and were being set on the road back to the Imperial City. Despite Mulan's obvious lack of energy, Khan was faithfully steering her towards the head of the cavalry line. Shang watched them arrive, wincing sympathetically as he saw the depth of her fatigue.

Mulan lifted her head tiredly when their horses met. "Aren't the spirits coming?"

"Yes, Mulan," Shang said softly. "Behind you, in formation."

The multitude stood at attention. Seeing rank upon rank of men, each one turned out in a long-retired uniform, made Shang aware of how much was depending on him and his men in the era they lived in now. The army would need to help China rebuild its sense of strength as well as its physical might. The future depended on their actions, but the past also needed them…to keep its wisdom alight, to learn from its many missteps.

"Thou may'st dispense with us at thy leisure," said the ghost general. Shang nodded to Mulan, letting her know that this was her task to complete.

Mulan briefly touched the Emperor's crest. "You are free, now," she said. "Once we find where all of you came from, we'll send you back to your ancestral shrines." She tried a smile, though to Shang she looked more tired with every passing minute. "Think of the surprises so many temples will get on the festival day!"

Shang shared her smile. "Then they'll finally find a home."

"Not all," interrupted the ghost general. "One of our number hath no kin left in all the world."

This startled Shang. He eyed the spirit in question, who drifted aimlessly above the ground.

"We all recall whence we came, now that thou hast revived us," said the spirit. "We can return to our temples of our own volition. This one's shrine, nonetheless, is naught but a memory. He cannot rest; he must needs begin to wander. He can feel it in his very core."

"Oh, no!" said Mulan mournfully. Shang noticed how personally she took the spirit's plight. It was growing clearer and clearer what exactly Mulan had in mind for the heart-to-heart she'd promised him.

An idea came to him.

"Mulan," he said, "he needs a new temple, doesn't he?"

Mulan nodded sadly.

Shang looked at her closely. Wasn't this it—the answer to her dilemma of succession?

"It may be best to unite the lost soul with a family that has no male heir," Shang reminded her, just in case she was so tired she was missing the fact that here was a future adopted son for the Fa family.

Mulan nodded her head. "He needs a new temple. We must undo the hatred sown in this land."

_Hatred? What is she…_

Mulan took a breath shakily, as if it pained her. "Spirit," she said to the young ghost soldier. "Will you take the name of Guan as your own?"

Shang started. "Guan?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," said Mulan, eyes on the ground.

_"Guan?"_

"It's the only way justice can be done."

"Yumen Guan does _not _deserve this," said Shang heatedly.

"She did terrible things," Mulan agreed, "out of a desire for conquest and immortality. Does that condemn the rest of the family? This is what _they _deserve. They were so honored in their time that they knew how to enter the Emperor's burial chamber. Their line was so blessed that when it was broken, Thunder God himself took matters into hand. But even Thunder God could not restore the line. I can. Will you do it?" she asked the quavering spirit.

The young ghost soldier ceasing drifting. "Yes, but with what body?"

Mulan pointed to the defeated criminals. "Most of them are condemned. Pick one who's in line for the axe—that man may save his body, if not his mind."

The spirit's eyes widened with hope. "Can it be true?"

She closed her eyes as if withstanding a great blow. "Take my horse to the Imperial city. Don't worry; he knows the way."

The overjoyed soul sped over to the gaggle of trussed-up prisoners.

"Khan can also take care of him if he tries to make trouble," Mulan said out of the corner of her mouth.

_Fa Mulan, you brave, brave soul._

Shang knew that this was not the place to hold Mulan close. Instead, he took her by the arm so casually it might almost have been an accident, and walked over to his horse.

Mulan looked at him questioningly.

"I'll give you a hand up," said Shang.

"I..."

"You no longer have a horse of your own, correct?"

Mulan turned her head turned away, but when he grasped her arm, mounted his horse, and pulled her gently in front of him in the saddle, she leaned back into his chest and made a sound of contentment. It would be so easy just to tilt his head down...

"Is that a no?" he murmured, his hands very carefully leaving her waist.

"I...it...it's not a no," Mulan murmured. "But Shang..."

He pressed his lips against her temple. "I know. We'll talk. But we can still have this journey together, can't we?"

Was that a tear he felt on her cheek?

"Yes, sir," she answered softly, and he heard the breath catch in her throat.

* * *

Shang felt Mulan settle into a comfortable position in the saddle and saw her head nod in slumber. He rode over to Tang, who, though viewing them through narrowed eyes, offered no comment.

"We have to get back to the Imperial City," Shang told him. "There are still bandits to deal with, and once the Emperor comes out of hiding, he should know—"

"He does know," said Tang. "I told him. Or rather, one of our ancestors did."

Shang nearly dropped the reins.

"The spirit who called himself Two wrote a scroll that I read; His Excellency now has it. I can't imagine Yumen Guan knew about _that _little snafu," said Tang. "Though it was one of her own men."

Shang stared at his brother. "Tang? Explain—"

Tang opened his mouth...

"—On the way. First," Shang indicated the men with a sweep of his hand. "They've been gazing at that cursed well too long not to want to know, in detail, what happened. You and I will tell them." Glancing down at Mulan, "If I know her, she'll even sleep through that."

Tang nodded reluctantly, and with solemn authority, the two Li brothers approached the men.

* * *

Three hours later, the recruits were still muttering among themselves. Shang could tell that they still didn't know what to make of the situation...and in truth, the picture had become muddier to him, as well.

An ancestor of _his_, in the service of Yumen Guan! Shang had always been proud of his family, and the truth hadn't been easy to accept. The discovery sat easier with him once he knew the whole story of Two's involvement, but it still sank him deep into contemplation. He gained a new respect for Mulan not punishing a good family for the misdeeds of one.

Then there was the barbarity Guan had tried to unleash on Mulan's village. Tang related his and Mulan's heated discussion at Wu Zhong, and Mulan's hard decision in the end. Shang couldn't help but think of that with warmth. True, she had followed her own path, and she hadn't been happy, but she'd done what he'd asked on only his word, and compelled her men to do likewise.

When all was said and done, she _did_ trust him.

"She figured out why I had to be vague, then," Shang muttered, an uncharacteristically wistful look in his eyes.

"Of course she did. She's too smart not to. What's more, she found a way around what Guan had done. Still..." Tang shook his head at the sleeping Mulan. "You might want to give her some distance. She's been attacked inside _and _out. Did you know Seven came to her house in her absence...fought her father on her very own doorstep?"

_It was Guan who made Mulan's decision final, _Shang realized. _She took and twisted Mulan's protective instinct toward her family._

"Now that you know, Shang, you might think twice about," and here Tang couldn't help a twitch of his lips, "riding off with her into the sunset right now."

Shang felt his face burning, but he shot back, "And you, Tang, are giving her a lot of praise poorly disguised as information."

"Hmph." Tang slowed his horse and fell in with the rest of the men. Shang wasn't fooled. When he could reduce Tang to a huff, he knew he'd won Tang over.

"As for _you_," Shang growled to Mulan in mock severity. "All you had to do was ask me to help you and your family. That was all. But you wouldn't ask me, would you?"

His beloved slept on, the previous tension in her muscles gone with temporary relief from her worries.

"You'd try to solve everything yourself and not involve me," Shang told her. "You wouldn't want me to do you any favors." He leaned forward, his mouth against her ear. "Nonsense."

"Nnngh?" Mulan interrupted his thoughts. "Not nonsense...sir," she mumbled in her sleep. "Ling put the worms in my rice, I swear. No. No, not the sandbags!"

It was all Shang could do not to guffaw. A training camp nightmare at a time like this! For all her talents and convictions, she wasn't some flight of fancy. She was delightfully human.

He stroked the skin around the string that held his phoenix. He remembered back to the night he'd had it sent for, the night that his idea for helping Mulan's family had come to him. Now, though there might be protests from every side, he was ready to go through with it.

Mulan loved him. That alone gave Shang the courage to act in the face of anyone's malice, living or dead.

* * *

Mulan forced herself into awareness as she felt Shang put a few touches of mud on her face.

They had lost so many men already, in this and in Shan Yu's attack, that even though their force was far superior, they would try a ruse to save lives—especially the life of one Marshal Guo. Shang explained, as he made her appear to be a prisoner of war, that the last thing they needed at this moment was a hostage situation. Mulan felt Shang's posture stiffen (she suggested that he narrow his eyes, just like Guan) in an attempt to fool Yumen Guan's men into thinking Shang was still possessed.

After the spirit-war in the heart of the storm, this battle felt almost like a waking dream. Shang's fake victory cry rang out as if from far away...Guan's men echoed him, almost in slow motion...Shang gave his troops the signal to charge in, and every move of the Imperials blurred past her tired eyes.

Gone were Guan's puzzling plans, the most cunning of the old fighters, the threat of the broad reshaping of China. These thugs fled from gunpowder where Guan would have held ground, even not knowing what it was. Marshal Guo, once a helpless prisoner, had smelled the ambush from a mile away and was subduing one thug after the next, after the next. Even in front, Mulan and Shang were in no danger.

Mulan sat upright, fully awake, and Guan's menace was still just a nightmare.

"Li Shang! Fa Mulan!" The Marshal was not one for small talk. "Well met, at last. I knew the Imperial army would not fail its Emperor, not even against such an unusual threat as this. We'll soon have a celebration on our hands. And, you, there, stop trying to take that thief's dagger for yourself!" he shouted to one errant soldier. "All confiscated weapons are to be collected and stored in the armory!"

"Yes, sir!" squeaked the man.

"Boys," said the Marshal with a shake of his head. "It will be a long time before they're really ready for war. But we'll make men of them yet. You! Give the horses water, they're tired, for heaven's sake! And as for _you..."_

He began dispensing discipline left and right, striding purposefully toward the center of the hubbub so that Mulan and Shang were left alone.

Mulan gathered her energy as well as her courage. _Better to make this a clean break, _she told herself. _You don't need to wound his heart by drawing this out. He'll be angry for a while, but...but..._ she couldn't bear to finish the thought. Exhaustion hit her again as she forged ahead.

"Well," said Mulan, forcedly upbeat. "I'll delegate clean-up duty to some of my men, and then I'll be off! There's not much more for me to do here." She carefully dislodged Shang's grip and dismounted.

"You'll make your report to the Emperor," he said neutrally, dismounting as well.

"Yes, sir, he'll receive it in writing in the standard three weeks." Mulan drew her cape snugly about her and considered making a sprint for it.

No, she couldn't. She owed it to him to explain.

"Shang," she said as quietly as she could, "do you remember when we spoke, the first time we were by the old Guan well? I'm sure now, more than ever, that I can't give you my word that I'll be with you. My family has suffered enough; I won't add to it by making them watch the last of their descendents married off. To prolong this would only hurt us both." She held his gaze. "I must return to my family, and you to yours. They must come first for both of us."

She moved closer, blinking furiously as she willed herself to remain serene. _How can this be?_ her stubborn inner voice rang out. _You leave him standing, your great captain (for what it's worth, sir!), your dear friend, your perfect match? _

A lump formed in her throat. "We will always have a bond, you and I."

One more word, and she was sure she'd never be able to leave him.

Mulan steeled herself against the hurt that she was sure would emanate from her dear Shang.

He took it calmly, though. She almost wished for more emotion from him. After all, hadn't he been flirting with her just now? Hadn't he held her, spoken her name with such sweetness?

"I can't convince you to stay, then?" he said, his expression unreadable.

She shook her head, and it burned her heart to say, "No, Shang." _I will not cry. _"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." She reached out and clasped his hand for a moment, forgetting that they were still in the sight of their troops. Shang returned the pressure, and then Mulan could not help but hug him.

"Good-bye."

They held each other for a moment, and then, oddly enough, it was Shang who first pulled away.

"You're being really nice about this," Mulan confessed shakily, squashing the inner hope that he would rant and fume…that he would show as much pain as she was feeling right now. Swallowing hard, she added, "I'm glad you're doing the gentlemanly thing and letting me go my own way."

"What gentleman wouldn't?" said Shang, his voice kind but distant.

_He's already drawing away from me. Oh, Shang...all right, that's enough. Think of what will happen to Mushu and your ancestors if you linger. Go, GO, before you make a scene!_

Burying the remnants of that dream within her heart, Mulan headed towards the south gate.

She got five steps...

"Marshal Guo," said Shang firmly. "Please arrest Fa Mulan at once."

* * *

There was dead silence in the courtyard.

_Arrest Fa Mulan? _

Confusion reigned for a good minute and a half as the declaration sank in.

Shang, however, set his face into the commanding expression he always wore when doling out discipline. It was apparent he would not back down.

In a panic, Mulan thought, _He's serious!_

"This is...a curious development. By whose authority do you call for this woman's arrest, General?" demanded the Marshal.

"Chi Fu's," replied Shang, ignoring the sounds of disbelief all around him.

_No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't _dare_ use that to keep me here!_

She tried to pierce his façade, but his eyes were hooded.

"The charges, General?" Marshal Guo went on.

Shang folded his arms across his chest. If it weren't for his face, Mulan could have sworn he was enjoying himself.

"She was ordered to step down as captain of the new cavalry troops, an order which she directly disobeyed. She conveyed these troops to her home village without proper authorization and failed to make an adequate military report to you or myself."

Mulan gaped. "But—"

"She has set herself as commander over the army in my absence..."

Mulan found her voice.

"You wanted me to!"

"And what were my words to that effect?"

"I—"

"No defense, I see. As can easily be discerned, Marshal," said Shang, the very picture of outraged dignity, "she must be confined to quarters in the Imperial Palace pending a review by His Majesty."

"SHANG!"

"She now uses my first name," Shang concluded, "a clear violation of protocol."

Aghast, Mulan could only watch as two of the Marshal's aides began marching towards her.

Mulan made a last-ditch effort.

"Marshal Guo—"

"Furthermore, she has stolen my helmet."

Robbed of any words she could have said, she only glared at Shang.

The tiniest upturn of his mouth told her all she needed to know.

Marshal Guo appraised both of them. "I couldn't agree more, General. This soldier must stand before the Emperor himself to explain her actions. Take her away."

"Marshal, I implore..."

"No backtalk, Fa Mulan. You await the judgment of the Emperor himself!"

All the while, Shang stood to the side, looking completely guiltless.

_I'll kill him._

* * *

"This review of the events concerning the actions of Fa Mulan against Yumen Guan has now begun!"

Mulan stood tall, her hands at her sides. It was several days after retaking the palace, and she could hardly call "confinement" what she'd been through. Shang had requested she be imprisoned in the quarters he normally used in the barracks and then spent the remaining days sending her expensive food, scrolls, and training weapons. Meanwhile, it had occurred to her that she would have had to face the consequences of her actions anyway, with or without intervention by her well-meaning superior.

Her frustration knew no bounds. She'd thought he'd shown his feelings before; not so. The further away she knew she had to push him, the further he made his way into her heart.

Not looking at Shang, Mulan bowed to the Emperor, who was seated once again on his throne.

"Fa Mulan," he began sternly. "I wish for a complete and absolutely straightforward account of your actions from the day you first encountered Yumen Guan until the day of the Festival of Ghosts. Proceed."

Mulan took a deep breath.

"You are aware, of course, that a scribe will be recording your answers." The Emperor gestured to where Li Tang, of all people, was sitting cross-legged.

Tang glanced knowingly in her direction, and then busied himself with writing the introduction.

Mulan looked around her. The entire council, Marshal Guo and Li Shang were all in attendance.

"Excuse me," she said, feeling very small all of a sudden. "Will everyone here be speaking?"

"Oh, no, just myself," replied the Emperor. "Li Tang, have you written down the date and the names of those present?"

"Yes, Your Excellency," Tang answered. "I am ready for dictation."

For a long two hours, she dutifully recalled almost every move she had made from the arrival of the Men of Mist all the way to Yumen Guan's end. What had been her orders? Where did the tactics come from? How many troops did the enemy have, at the beginning and at the end? Did Thunder God say anything to her that might hold consequences for China? On and on the list of questions went, with Tang's brush scribbling away.

Mulan had her own questions buzzing through her mind. What would happen to her now? How much input did the others have in this hearing? Would she be returned to her quarters? What would all this mean for the men she had trained?

"As I know about the last encounter with those encamped on my palace doorstep," the Emperor finished at last, "I believe that the chronicle is now complete."

"Chronicle?" Mulan blurted out, and then clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Ah," said the Emperor, understanding her bewildered expression. "We are recording this incident for historical purposes, should anyone after us face a similar threat."

Mulan looked from one face to the other. "Isn't this a trial?"

"No, Chi Fu usually presides over the writing on those occasions."

"Then why was I confined?" Mulan ventured, trying desperately to find why the situation had been turned on its head.

"Your four-day captivity was, I believe, sufficient punishment for your leaving Lieutenants Shueh and Nau in your village without orders. Oh, yes, I extracted that information from General Li very soon after your arrest. As is only fair, he also met with punishment for trying to cover for you."

"Oh..." said Mulan, dismayed.

The Emperor cleared his throat. "Indeed. I summoned your family here—thankfully, they were already on their way to see Li Bo-Yin—and when they arrive, he will be compelled to give them a tour of the entire palace."

Mulan bit back laughter, and it was a bit of consolation to see Shang mortified for a change.

The Emperor lowered his voice. "I understand," he said, "that the army is not always fair. But it is not for you to hide information, Fa Mulan, Li Shang, especially from me."

She started to speak, then switched what she'd intended to say, then fell silent. After a moment's reflection, she found that she couldn't resist. "Does Your Majesty know _everything?_"

The Emperor gave her a grandfatherly smile. "Only about the things I should, child."

Red-faced but infinitely grateful, Mulan fiddled awkwardly with her medal. Looking down in sudden revelation, Mulan said, "I'm sorry, Your Excellency, if I took liberties with your name when I addressed the spirits as your messenger."

The Emperor knitted his brows. "Are you apologizing for taking the necessary means to protect my land from harm?"

"No, no, of course not!"

"Then let's hear no more of it. This review has been concluded, though I must ask you to remain, Fa Mulan. Now, what matters are left for me to settle?" mused the Emperor.

This was Chi Fu's moment to shine.

"I am so pleased that you asked, Your Majesty!" he groveled. "Why, there's a whole long list! I have it right here. Beginning, as you well know, with a theft most foul of the Second Princess's hair comb—"

"Have her check under her pillow," said the Emperor. "She's fallen asleep with that comb in her hair ever since she was six. At any rate, I was speaking of those who are here with us this evening."

"Y-yes, quite right, I knew that, heh heh!" Chi Fu laughed sheepishly, mincing a few steps backward.

"Well now, I know neither of you will ask for a real reward if I inquired as to what you might want, so I'll have to make do with what I know."

"Reward?" Mulan could hardly believe her ears.

"Fa Mulan, you are reinstated as cavalry captain. Both you and Li Shang will receive extended leave, to be taken whenever it may be convenient for both of you." His gaze flitted from one to the other. "Oh, and one last thing, Fa Mulan." He handed her a small scroll. "This is for you. I would advise you, however, not to open it in public. You can thank Li Shang for the idea."

"Yes, Your Excellency." She bowed. _What in the world could this be? _"Since you want me to be more open, I must inform you that one of the spirits remains on the earth, in the body of a condemned man. He has no shrine to return to."

The Emperor nodded encouragingly to her. "And what do you believe he should do with this second chance at life?"

"I believe," Mulan said quietly, "that Thunder God's justice should be administered."

She appealed to all the officials in the room.

"Because of our enemy, the Guan family never had the chance to receive real justice," she said. "I move that this spirit take the Guan name and help restore the land."

The Emperor frowned. "And the family living there?"

Mulan grew somber. "Yumen Guan made all the Bao men eunuchs, incapable of having children of their own. Your Majesty, the Bao family _did_ commit sacrilege, long ago, and their children reaped the benefits of both the land and their silence about its history. Even so, I don't believe they should all be cast out into the cold. If it please Your Majesty, the Bao men can be Imperial eunuchs and guard court women. The spirit now taking the Guan name can marry one of the daughters and care for everyone else. The two families will unite under one roof, ending the feud." Mulan smiled. "Just as long as the spirit takes care when tilling the land. It is beautiful, and deserves to be tended."

_Yumen Guan, wherever you are, I hope I just made you very unhappy._

This produced such a commotion among the Emperor's council that the Emperor nearly had to raise his voice to call for order.

"I object!" called Chi Fu, once everyone else was quiet. "The Guan family does not deserve justice! It should be disgraced! This Yumen Guan was a traitor to China and they deserve only exile!"

"But councilor," Mulan objected, "Yumen Guan was _not _a son."

Chi Fu huffed. "And?"

"She was a Guan _daughter_," Mulan emphasized. "She received Thunder God's pity because..." It was difficult to get the words out. "...Because she was the only daughter of a prominent man, and when she married, the line came to an abrupt end."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Shang's eyes on her intently. He nodded grimly, letting her know that he was aware of who had forced her to come to this decision.

"She married into another family, and so took on their name," Mulan explained to them. "She called herself a Guan, but she was not."

"Then what was the treacherous family name, pray tell?" Chi Fu's pen was poised like a dagger.

Mulan smiled with just the tiniest touch of condescension.

"Why, Chi Fu, I'm glad you asked. Truth be told, we don't know the name of the family she married into." She shrugged. "And her first name was long forgotten, even by herself. It was so long ago...I don't think we'll ever know if she has descendents living. In fact, she could probably be the ancestor of _anyone in this room_. Excluding Your Majesty, of course."

As this uncomfortable news sank in, Mulan stared at them all, put all of _their_ judgments on trial. Almost no one met her eye.

Mulan bowed. "I ask permission to depart, Sire."

"Granted. Go with the blessings of the past and present China."

* * *

Mulan, after all of that solemnity and scrutiny, felt like doing something drastic and childish just to banish her burdensome thoughts.

"Hey, it's my favorite Fa!" called her guardian as he met her just outside. "Sorry I overslept, just got here, forgot to wind up Cri-Kee again...did ya go for your trial yet?"

Mulan smiled and was about to answer, when she was tackled from behind.

"Yaaah!" she gasped as her twin assailants knocked the wind out of her.

"Mulan!"

"We're here, buddy!"

"And no matter what that pisspot Chi Fu says, we'll stick with you to the end!"

"Heck, we'd take the punishment for ya if we could—"

"Y-Yao? Ling?" Mulan gasped, recovering from her shock. "You're here?"

Yao stuck his chin out. "We wouldn't miss it! 'Specially after the entire army found itself way out west, with the officers not havin' a clue how it got there! Took us forever to get back, even at forced marches, but we made it! Oh, man, you should have seen it—" he chuckled. "Anyway, didn't you know we'd be there for ya?"

Ling clapped her on the shoulder. "Heck, we're just glad we didn't have to wear dresses this time!"

Their good humor was infectious, and soon Mulan found herself joking and cursing Chi Fu along with the pair of them. When they asked about Chien-Po, she'd told them he would be fine, though he'd be sore for awhile. This naturally called for more explanation, which she gave, with silent apologies to her absent friend.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Yao said, hold his hands out in front of him. "Chien-Po got beaten by your father? With a WALKING STICK?"

He and Ling exchanged glances.

Ling rubbed his hands gleefully. "We'll never let him hear the end of _this!_"

Mulan chided them, but inside, she felt content, if not happy. China was saved, her friends were here with her again, comforting her with a sense of belonging.

"_If _I may interrupt," came Shang's voice coolly.

_Oh, great._

Mulan ignored him. She did not want to remember her painful parting from Shang, and wanted to think on her own future even less.

"So, guys," she said, attempting to sound carefree, "what _was _it like out west? I've never been there."

Ling caught on quickly. "Oh, it was great! I mean, the food kinda stinks, but the _women_..."

This time, Shang used his If-you-don't-listen-you-will-die-slowly voice. "I wish to talk to Mulan."

Yao sized him up. "As one officer to another?"

He shook his head impatiently. "No, as..."

"Then forget it," said Yao. "You've had pleeeeenty of time to spend with her. We just got here!"

Shang drew himself up to his full height, and to forestall the subsequent explosion, Mulan took matters into her own hands.

"Shang, you had me arrested four days ago. I don't exactly feel like talking." She shot him a look that meant, _And I know what your real motive was._

Shang fidgeted but soldiered on. "I thought I'd made my intentions clear!"

Mulan put her hands on her hips. "And I thought I'd done the same when I told you _good-bye_," she said. A painful confrontation with Shang was the last thing she needed right now. "Guys?" she told them. "Let's go to a cheap, noisy bar and get drunk!"

Shang scowled. "And what if another would-be poet shows up?"

Mulan looked at him innocently. "Why, General, I thought that's why you taught me martial arts!"

Yao and Ling backed away, having more of a sense of self-preservation than to get between Mulan and Shang during a dispute.

Mulan looked Shang directly in the eye.

_Thought you could get away with keeping me here, could you, Li Shang? You just watch._

"Ling, Yao," Mulan said brightly, "I learned a new song from my recruits. It's crude and filthy, so you'll love it. Want to hear how it goes?"

Behind her, Ling and Yao quickly made up their minds and trailed after her, edging around Shang as if he would imprison them the first chance he got. Mulan refused to look back as they made their way out to the streets, though she knew, as she had known before, that Shang's eyes were following her every step of the way.

* * *

_"I'm Fa Mulan!"_

_"No, I'm Fa Mulan!"_

_"Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!"_

_Bright lanterns, each in a different color, bobbed up and down in front of Mulan. Behind the string of colored lights, Shang awaited, arms crossed over his chest as if the lanterns were up for inspection._

_"Let's see, now," he said. "The Mulan I know has vanished, so I have to pick a new Mulan. It won't be easy..."_

_"I'm the one you want!" shrilled a large, red one. "Shang, I'm the real Mulan! Pick me!"_

_Mulan looked down at her hands. They were transparent and fleshless._

_"Shang!" she tried to call to him. "Don't! I'm right here, right here for you!"_

_Shang peered at...no,_ through_...her. "Mulan, you know I can't marry a ghost! I can't even see you properly."_

_He started to inspect the lanterns again._

_Frantically, Mulan shouted, "Don't! I'll get a lantern of my own. I always have a spare."_

_**"You?"**_

_Shang gave an ugly smile, and Yumen Guan's face burst out of his, grinning._

_"You left your light down at the bottom of the well."_

_The world darkened and dissolved before her eyes._

_"Don't you know I'm the Mulan you're searching for?" whispered a high-pitched voice in the dark. _

_"No, you're not, I'm Mulan," said a second voice._

_"I'M Mulan!"_

_"No, I—"_

_"I'm the real—"_

_"Mulan...Mulan..."_

"MULAN!"

Mulan's eyes fluttered open.

She swallowed, pinched herself, and then braced against a jarring headache as she awoke fully.

_Bleaugh, my mouth… _Mulan made a face. It tasted worse than Cri-Kee.

"Mulan, you get up this instant!"

Was it morning already? And why was someone lecturing her? It was a familiar voice, but at the same time, out of place.

"What are you idling about for? It's almost midday!"

"Unh?" was Mulan's only response as she felt someone tugging at her blankets. Reflexively, she drew them closer, only to have them torn away and her pillow yanked from underneath her head. For a moment, she wished Thunder God had covered the sky with clouds again. The light made her head throb.

Now as wide awake as she ever got before breakfast, Mulan rubbed her eyes and was sure she was seeing things.

"That was some wine," she mumbled. "Yao and Ling said it would warm my insides; they didn't say it would make me _see _things." If she trusted her eyes, it looked like Mamá was right there in front of her!

"Look, Ma," Mulan grumbled, tugging on her stolen topsheet, "I know you're just a hallucination, so I'm going back to bed, all right?"

"Hallucination! What _have _you been doing with those boys?" Fa Li swatted Mulan's hand away.

"Huh?" That had felt...real! But how could...

Far, far too late, Mulan remembered that the Emperor had sent for her family. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, she inched her gaze up until it rested on her mother.

"Good morning?" Mulan smiled sheepishly.

She dropped the covers like they had burned her and scurried out of her mother's reach.

"Cominggivemeaminutehavetogetdressedwherearemyshoes—" she called from the safety of her changing screen.

On impulse, she peered back out. "Oh, and it's wonderful to see you here, Mamá!"

Fa Li rubbed her temples hopelessly. "A few weeks away, and you turn into a street urchin."

Mulan decided not to mention any more about her nocturnal outing.

"And what was that song you kept humming in your sleep?" her mother demanded.

"A...lullaby?" fibbed Mulan as she industriously scrubbed her face and began throwing on some clothes.

"I never heard that tune before."

"Um..."

_Is it going to be this way for the rest of my life? _Mulan groaned as she pondered waking up to that nagging every day until she was old and gray. Conscious of the time, she snatched the sash off of yesterday's dress. The Emperor's scroll dropped down from it, and Mulan picked it up, speedily stowing it once more at her waist.

"Is she ready?" called Fa Zhou's voice from outside the room. "Shang is waiting to meet her."

Mulan overturned the changing screen in her eagerness to avoid her parents' wrath.

"Just have to—oh—ow—got it!"

She smiled triumphantly. "What do you think?"

Fa Li folded her arms, unimpressed. "Mulan, your shoes are on the wrong feet."

"I _knew_ something felt funny about them..."

"And your hair is a mess! No girl I know gets bedhead like you. It'll take an hour just to straighten the back of it!"

"He's _here_, you know," Mulan's father called impatiently through the door.

"Mulan, may I come in?" came Shang's voice.

"No!" said Fa Li.

"Yes!" said Mulan. _Any escape from this!_

"I'll take the yes," said Shang as he opened the door and strode in. "Fa Li," he nodded respectfully, "your husband requires your presence in the west gardens."

Mulan's mother made a short bow and exited, but not without a secretive smile in Mulan's direction.

Mulan tried to flatten the cowlick at the back of her head, but gave it up when Shang caught sight of her.

"Here, let me do it," he offered as if no argument had occurred between them the night before. "I can see the back of your head better than you can."

"True," conceded Mulan. "I'm surprised you're still speaking to me, though."

"Likewise. Perhaps we can call a truce?"

"Absolutely," said Mulan sincerely. "Oh, the hairbrush is over—"

"I don't need it." Shang's fingers deftly began smoothing down her locks.

Mulan sighed in mixed pleasure and vexation. "_Shang_, you're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"This isn't one of those times where you can wear away a woman's resistance until she gives in. I won't retract my decision, not even if you were the crown prince himself."

"In other words, I have to be reasonable about things?" She could tell he was grinning. "All right. I'll start by owning up: I have no interest in tidying up your appearance."

Mulan smiled. "I gathered that."

"Did you," said Shang as his hands inched their way toward her neck. "Hmm," he said in false surprise, "I wonder what _this_ could be?"

He lifted up her hair, found the string circling her neck, and took it between his fingers.

Mulan clutched at the pendant before he could see it. _How did he know? _"Shang, you can't—"

"Don't I at least have the right to see it?"

That made her relinquish her hold. In an instant, she heard him draw his knife and felt the cord snap as he severed it. Mulan let the phoenix drop into her hands, cradling it like a lost pet.

One golden eye stared up at them.

"I didn't want you to see it," Mulan forced herself to say.

Shang put the knife aside and caught her tightly in an embrace. "Even now?"

"I…"

His lips found her neck.

"My sweet Mulan?"

He pressed her so close to him that she could feel the muscles of his chest with every breath. Mulan wanted to breathe in time with him, to feel that there was just one wonderful life in the room, that their souls were spun together like two cords of silk. She heaved a heartfelt sigh. Oh, she would do battle for this man.

Mulan reached for his hands and kissed them fiercely.

"I would wear it, and proudly, every day, if I could. I just can't have you to myself!"

He nodded but still clung to her. "Because you're the last of your line."

Mulan went rigid, remembering her dream. "You _knew _you would have to find someone else, but you had me locked up—"

"I wouldn't have kept you here if I thought you really wished to leave me."

She turned around, still in his arms. "Then why are you doing this to yourself? Can't you see it's more painful this way?"

Shang motioned towards a set of cushions. "Sit with me. Maybe we can think of a way to conquer more spiritual matters than Yumen Guan."

Mulan sat, but the doubtful look remained. "You can't think this hasn't crossed my mind before," she told him. "All of these months, it's been eating at me, but I just can't seem to..."

Shang scooted a little closer.

"You might try asking me what _I_ think," he said wryly. "You didn't have to solve this dilemma alone."

Mulan blushed. "Well…"

"I find that a little irritating. That, and your continued underestimation of what I will and will not do for you."

She looked distressed. "Shang…"

"No, I understand, and I think I know why you kept this to yourself. Part of it is your selfless nature, part of it your independence—you would feel guilty about making demands of me." He smirked. "And part of it, my Mulan, is that you don't think that I could come up with a plan where you couldn't."

Mulan stared, openmouthed, and tried her hardest to contradict him.

He mimicked her voice. '"If _I_ can't imagine a working plan for our future, we all know that _Shang _couldn't do it!"'

"THAT, sir, is completely untrue," said Mulan, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have never once thought of—"

"—asking for a Fa child from me?"

Mulan's heart skipped a beat. "Shang?"

"As I understand it," Shang continued jovially, a touch of smugness in his voice, "your plan of staying with your parents is only a temporary fix. You would have to bear children in order to continue the Fa family past your own death."

"That's true..."

"Then why can't one of our children be a Fa?" He flushed badly. "I'm—I'm sure that we'll have many," he said, almost mumbling.

Mulan took pity on him, and said, "That would be wonderful," as she tried to figure out what to do with the bubble of hope that was threatening to conquer her senses. She sighed longingly. "I just don't see how."

"I do. Have a look at your scroll from the Emperor."

Mulan rummaged through her sash and found it.

»»»»»«««««

To protect the noble name of FA,

which has performed admirably

in the service of the Emperor,

no member of the Fa family line

shall be conscripted for service

for three generations. Furthermore,

the following edict is now in effect:

That all Fa family inheritance

henceforth shall pass to

the firstborn of the Fa estate.

»»»»»«««««

Mulan's mouth formed an O.

The gesture was priceless. Mulan would never have to watch her sons ride to war unwillingly, or see her father return to service. They _would_ be her sons who were exempt, for: _Firstborn, _the Emperor had said, not _first son_. She was now the Fa heir, as would be the first child of her womb. The Fa name would endure, for the Son of Heaven had spoken.

Mulan read over the scroll again and again, in a daze.

At last, Shang touched her shoulder tentatively. "Well?"

In a trice, Mulan seized two cushions and wedged them firmly between the two of them. She piled the rest of them up high until only the top of his head could be seen. She could only imagine his surprise.

"...Mulan?" he said, even more unsteadily.

She felt for his hand and grasped it like a lifeline. It was all right. He could know the truth.

"Shang. I _love_ you."

For one dreadful moment, he was silent; she thought he hadn't heard her. Then his hand tightened over hers and with one tug of his arm, he pulled her right through the pile. Cushions scattered everywhere, half-burying Mulan in the heap as Shang tried to draw her to him.

Mulan shoved the pile away as best she could, and when she looked up, she saw that Shang knelt over her. One eyebrow was raised, just like the first time they'd seen each other.

"And the pillows?" was all he said.

Mulan made an embarrassed sound. "They were so I didn't throw myself at you while I said that."

Pause.

"Oh, _really?_" The mischief in his voice warned her, but she was still too slow to prevent what happened next. Those wonderful eyes bore down on her like twin arrows and before she knew it, she was scooped up and deposited snugly in his lap.

"Want to hear what I think of _you_?" he asked silkily.

Mulan pretended to consider it. "I'd rather not," she said, matching his tone.

Abashed, he tried to draw away, but she snagged the collar of his shirt and looked at him firmly.

"You might strain your voice," she explained, with a heartfelt smile. "I know your throat still hurts. So…" She clasped his shirt more firmly, then faced him with pleading eyes. "You can tell me without words, if you like."

He was close enough that she felt him tremble.

Shang pinned her hand right over his heart, leaned forward, and then…his lips caressed her mouth with firm sweetness.

She kissed him back deeply, savoring the heat and almost painful desire. She felt young and clumsy—her lips moved against his mouth, unsure. Her breath came sharply, his heavily—his warmth overcame her and she kissed him again, her mouth pressing hard now, her fears forgotten. He didn't laugh or correct her; he let her explore this moment with him, and when she broke the kiss with a shiver of delight, he had to clear his throat twice before he could utter her name.

"Gods, Mulan…" he said against her cheek. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't go to your father right now and beg him to accept a bride-price."

Mulan's heart beat wildly—

—and so did a knock at the door.

"URGENT NEWS, GENERAL!"

Mulan and Shang turned their heads toward the door. Mulan carefully refrained from visiting great pain upon the speaker.

"Who _is_ that—" Shang hissed a word Mulan hadn't ever heard him say.

Mulan nuzzled the area behind his ear. "Pang Tsu. A recruit of mine."

Shang glanced from her to the door; his face darkened. "Private Pang Tsu, you will report this to me when I am on the practice fields this afternoon, and not before. There is nothing more urgent than the business I am attending to right now."

Mulan stifled a snort of laughter by burying her face in Shang's shirt. At the same time, her stomach knotted. What if her trainee walked in on them?

It was obvious that Pang Tsu had been taken aback by Shang's statement. "Pardon me, General, but are you _sure_ it's more dire than—?"

"Private Pang."

"Yessir?"

"Do you value your life?"

"Why, uh, of course I—"

"Then _let go of the door handle and_ _run_."

"Eep!"

Feet scampered away down the corridor.

Mulan and Shang looked at each other.

"Just when I thought you couldn't impress me more than you have," Mulan smiled in spite of her embarrassment.

"I could say the same." He touched his fingers to her mouth, and she reddened.

"Shang, with the kiss, I, I was fumbling…and then I…"

"_Mulan. _I remember, believe me." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "You need have no regrets. Please. It…" his voice hitched, and finding no adequate words, his mouth lingered on her cheek, then her forehead.

"I'm not demure," she said bluntly, "if that's what you expected. I'm no seductress, either, though. I've tried to hold back and be reserved and calm, like I was taught." She drew in a shaky breath and lifted her chin. "I can't. I love you, and you're so wonderful to hold…" she clenched her hands. "I'm not supposed to touch you, or like your touch, before I wed. Not ever. But I have no experience, and no desire to go beyond the bounds of honor."

Shang nodded in understanding. "So hiding the phoenix wasn't just because of the Fa family." With a twinkle in his eye, "It explains the cushions, too."

She smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid so."

He took her hand in both of his. "You told me once you wouldn't break if I showed you my love to its fullest. And now, do you think that I'll run? Mulan, I am not afraid of you _or_ your passion for me."

For long moments, they stared at each other, taking in this new and fuller understanding. At last, Shang knew her, and she him, through and through.

They found their way into each other's arms once again, and held fast while the minutes slipped away. At last, Mulan got a playful gleam in her eye.

"Your turn," she teased, reaching up to undo his topknot. Once the troublesome tie was out of the way, Mulan ran her fingers through his hair until it was well and truly tousled.

"Why, _your_ hair is even more of a mess than mine," she declared in mock disdain. "What _have _you been doing to it, General?"

Pretending to be haughty, she turned up her nose, but Shang spoiled her charade by kissing it.

"Your advice, Madam?" he played along. "It won't be long before I visit the Matchmaker, and I'd like to make a good impression."

Mulan pretended to think. "I know I put my brush someplace…"

Shang chuckled and bent his head obligingly, but they froze as they heard footsteps in the corridor.

They sprang agilely to their feet, kicking the various pillows into the far corner of the room. Fortunately, the footsteps continued past them, but Mulan knew it was time for them to leave. She wondered at her parents for staying away this long, and it occurred to her that, even to a couple that adhered to tradition, the rules might need bending every once in a while.

"Next time, we should booby-trap the door," she grumbled.

"I suppose we should be glad that rascal Pang wasn't Chi Fu!" Shang replied. "In fact, I'm surprised that snake hasn't shown his face. He would leap at the chance to make a scandal!"

"He'd have to leap pretty far to get between us," said Mulan.

Shang raised his eyebrows interestedly.

"You see, after hours of contemplation," she explained soberly, "I decided it would only be fair to acknowledge to the Emperor my passing off another horse as Khan during my first tenure as captain. I wrote His Majesty a letter while I was imprisoned. Chi Fu jumped on the idea of charging me with horse theft, so I told him the horse's location and the horse's owner."

Shang was horrified. "Chi Fu could appropriate it from its rightful master!"

"Don't worry," she yawned sleepily, nestling against his shoulder. "I know for a fact that Huang Lo is just as pigheaded as the Emperor's counsel. They'll argue about it 'til the cows come home. Maybe even until _I_ come home! And for all that, the steed's a demon: neither man will be able to ride him. So, Shang," she said, to his growing delight, "I'd say it's a match made in heaven."

»»»»»«««««

**A/N:** dusts off her hands Well, that's it, then. The final chapter. Hope you enjoyed...

...oh, wait a minute. What's this?

rummages around in a spare drawer

How silly of me. There's an _epilogue _to this story of mine. My apologies. Mistook it for scrap paper.

I wonder when I should post it...

»»»»»«««««

* * *


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

They toasted China's victory in the Imperial City. On the last day of the Ghost Month, the wise and the great, and a few of the mediocre, sat down at the Emperor's banquet table to sumptuous fare. It was not a florid assembly. Many who gathered there were still in mourning for those who had fallen victim to Yumen Guan and her treachery.

Still, there were some things that could not wait for China to recover.

Mulan, almost but not quite late to the banquet, hastened in to find her beloved's mother and her own parents in avid conversation. To her surprise, everyone seemed to be getting on rather well. As she slipped into her seat, she caught the words "...four months? Usually longer..." and "...how many miles to the summer house?"

"Ah, there you are, Mulan," said Fa Li, turning around to face her. "We were just discussing the Emperor's scroll. He is a generous sovereign, the Emperor."

"Yes," nodded Lady Li. "We were debating whether or not it would affect the wedding plans."

_Wedding? _**Our**_ wedding? Shang must have told them everything! _

Mulan shrank back and bowed her head. "I...I'm sorry if this arrangement was not what you hoped for."

Lady Li drew herself up. "The Emperor has visited a privilege on you, young lady, and I'd expect you to be grateful, not apologetic. I do _not _presume to argue with His Majesty on such a point!"

She looked Mulan's way.

"By the way, when you've wed, don't let Shang push you around," she said out of the corner of her mouth. "He doesn't command in the house as he does in the field; make sure he remembers."

Mulan tried to cover her shock by gracefully pouring a cup of tea...into her soup bowl.

"Besides, as any good scholar knows," said Tang primly, "The Five Emperors bore their mother's last names. In a strange way, you're being more _traditional _than anyone else in the land."

A hundred thoughts whirled through Mulan's head in a mix of ecstasy and confusion. Among these was, _Just when you think you know someone inside out..._

"Welcome to the family," added Tang.

"Tang," Mulan whispered, "how does everyone in both our families know about my scroll?"

Tang shrugged, deliberately avoiding her eyes. "I happened to be the one who wrote it down."

A gong rang for silence.

"I believe Fa Mulan has something to say," called Marshal Guo. "She faced our enemy alone and returned. Hear her words!"

Mulan rose shakily to her feet, but her words were spoken evenly and without affectation.

"For a few weeks, the dead and the living switched places among us. Many died; now let us honor them. Bao Ssu, murdered by one of Guan's men. Lieutenant Shueh, Lieutenant Nau, Captain Wan...killed because they knew too much. Those massacred in the palace...and those who fell in the storm on the festival day, who were my men." She recited their names. Not one whisper broke her concentration. "These are those whose names are known." Here she raised her voice. "There are many, both aggressor and victim, who will remain faceless to us. I'll ask something unusual of you tonight: not that you remember, but that you _imagine. _Ask yourselves how great the temptation must have been for those heroic, nameless spirits who refused to follow Guan. Imagine what made Guan's lieutenants serve her, and how terrible the scars on their souls must be for theirs acts. You cannot hold their names in your memory, but I ask you to recall them in your actions, from this day until the ends of your lives. And last," she inhaled deeply. "We can return to the cycle of life in this good land. Marshal Guo will serve China once more; he will help give new life to our army. The spirit Liung Zhao, now Guan Zhao, and Bao Leiyi have agreed to marry and seal the breach of tradition and decency that caused us so much suffering. I also," she faltered here, and her eyes searched for the words she'd painted on the back of her fan, just in case.

_It is my great pleasure to announce the wedding of two honorable families, to the mutual benefit and prosperity..._

She found herself tucking the fan into her sash and speaking clearly.

"I'm going to marry Li Shang!"

Over the cheering and laughter, Mulan sat back down, not minding how much of her heart she had shown. She only wished Shang could be there with her, instead of helping shepherd the bothersome recruits back to Wu Zhong.

A question crept into her mind. Since Shang _wasn't _there to witness her announcement, she couldn't ask him how exactly he'd brought this about. Maybe his relatives knew.

Mulan took a sip of her wine and tried to sound nonchalant. "Tang, what did Shang say when our betrothal was made final?"

Tang and his mother exchanged a very Li look.

"Oh, he doesn't know a thing," answered Tang. "I just asked him how things were between you, and he wouldn't stop grinning at me! So I told Mother, who met with your parents to start planning. We didn't know you would announce the tidings in front of hundreds of people! You certainly have pre-empted us, Fa Mulan." With laughter in his eyes, "Shang's probably the only one in China who doesn't know about his own wedding!"

Mulan's usually quick mind went numb. All she could think was, _Shang…not…know?!  
_

"Yes, we thought it best to leave that to you, dear," said Li Bo-yin as she fanned herself serenely. "We can't do everything for you, you know!"

* * *

In search of sleep that night, Mulan wandered hither and thither through the palace, easing each door shut to avoid detection. The only one she'd woken so far was Mushu, who refused to leave her side, even after she'd told him off for being noisy. There was so much in front of her, with her life speeding ahead, that she felt as if she needed to catch up to it but didn't know how.

Restless, she picked her way through the gardens and came to a halt before a round little pond. The fish there ignored her, but she still felt watched...

A curtain of rain enclosed the pond, veiling the outer world but not so much as dotting her clothes. Clouds blocked out the moon, and Mulan felt a tingle up her spine.

"Well done, mortal."

Had she thought herself prepared for Thunder God? The booming words were so laden with power; she could feel his presence in her bones.

"Not afraid to look at me, are you?"

Mulan peered into his ancient, set face. "Yes, but I'll still do it."

He threw back his head and laughed. "That's more like it, Fa Mulan! And as for _you..._"

She felt Mushu bury his face in her shoulder.

Thunder God beckoned. "Come here, you rascal."

"I swear, it wasn't me, whatever you want—" Mushu clung to Mulan's nightclothes, but it didn't matter: he was plucked away and swung up to face his benefactor.

To the surprise of Mulan and her guardian, Thunder God only touched Mushu's eyes and set him back down gently, with a, "I'll take my gift back. Better not make so much trouble next time."

Mulan made herself ask, "Yumen Guan. Where is she?"

His face clouded. "Banished from all realms, mortal and high. Even she doesn't know she exists. As for me, I pity the mother. A good soul; not like her spawn."

His expression cleared and he waved to Mulan. "Chin up. Watch the skies! You'll see me look in on you. I know your face now: defender of justice below."

"With all due respect, Sir..." Mulan winced. "I'm very grateful for all you've done. Just...try not to be at my wedding?"

The celestial being shouldered his hammer and winked out of sight.

"You name the day, and sun will shine on it."

She followed the path of Shang and her troops, eventually, lingering east of Xi'an for a day or two. Mulan tried to see something of that small, hard-faced bride in anyone she came across. Faces flitted past her, a recollection of so many she'd gazed at earnestly on her return journey. Was it futile? _Even she doesn't know she exists..._

She and Khan were on the outskirts of another province, farther away from Guan land…Mulan had almost caught up to the men…still she leaned forward in the saddle every time someone passed by. She dreamed of the lost voices, of the castaway tablets, but could find no piece or remnant of Guan's bloodline in the present. She had prayed for answers, but wasn't certain her ancestors could even grant that. Had Yumen Guan had daughters, sons? What was her mother's family? How many bodies had she turned to clay before the latest war? Mulan's China remained, but some of what it had lost it would never find again, and that loss dogged her while she rode Khan west.

And then, when she finally let her eyes close, a clear voice like a birdcall cried her name.

"Fa Mulan!" said a child. "I hoped you would be here!"

Mulan's eyes opened; the youngster ran forward, skirts waving.

She was only about ten, but already smiled much more with her radiant eyes than with her dark, solemn mouth. She stood straight, small as she was.

The round-faced girl reached up and tugged at Mulan's sleeve.

Mulan dismounted. She'd seen a face like that before. The stature was about right, too. For a moment, she wondered if it really was...

"I'm thirsty," said the girl. "I heard there's a well near here."

_Ancestors, is this the one? The descendent of Yumen Guan?_

"I only know of one, far to the east, and it's gone," said Mulan. "It ran dry a long time ago." She brought Khan over and rummaged through her saddlebags. "I have some water with me, if you like."

She took out the waterskin and they shared it.

"You sound like Mama," sighed the child. "She told me about it—she says that it's only a grave." The girl stared to the east as if sightless. "Sometimes her spirit goes there, weeping. But she always returns to my heart." She glowed with happiness. "She's there now, I can feel it."

Seeing Mulan's perplexity, the girl added, "Not my real Ma. She's much different, closed off. Mama is a ghost. She told me she's from long ago."

Mulan motioned for the girl to face her. "Tell me about her."

The girl bowed obediently. "Mama came to me on the day of the Festival of Ghosts. No one can see her, not even me, but I hear her whispers." She laughed, not a girlish giggle, but a low, melodious sound. "I know you think I'm silly, but she helps me so much, just knowing her. There are a lot of days when I feel like I'm just nothing, and they're so hard to carry."

"I know those days," sympathized Mulan.

"Mama taught me to store them all up…so that I'd know how strong I was 'cause I got through each one of 'em." The girl bit her lip. "I wish she was alive."

Mulan shivered. _This is too much for coincidence, _she thought.

"Where's her temple?" asked the woman warrior.

The girl tilted her head to one side. "She doesn't have one. Hasn't had one for a long time. She had a daughter, a spirit, too, who talked to her. But her daughter liked power so much that she became blind and deaf to what her mother said. Now Mama doesn't even _have_ a daughter. She has no one left. That's why she cries."

Mulan struggled with the words. "If she has no temple, then how does she…endure?"

The girl raised one eyebrow as if the answer were obvious.

"_I'm_ her temple. Mama has found her home with me. She needs no more than that."

_Would she hate me if she knew? Would they both? _Mulan asked herself, knowing in her heart that she would not and could not take back a single blow with which she'd felled Guan. But where she couldn't reach, one beyond her could. She felt a stirring of her spirit, like a breath of wind sailing through a harbor. A whisper grew inside her mind, but the voice was so old…so foreign…it was a speech she could not decipher.

Maybe it was just a melody.

The girl returned the waterskin; Mulan nearly dropped it when they touched hands. The girl bowed to the warrior and set her stride towards an unknown village across the plains.

* * *

Mulan pushed Khan hard and caught up to the men the next day, when they were camped outside a healer's hut by the foothills near Tung Shao. Shang doubted more than a little when he heard the story, but he respected what she'd shared with him. He was paying the doctor to tend some of the men, with the unspoken stipulation that he and Mulan—that is, the senior officers—would have a short respite indoors from the heat.

They sat together on a splintery bench, watching the light wane through the rice-papered windows.

"He's done some remodeling," Shang noted, bringing the lantern nearer to the window. "He must have saved someone's life, gotten paid well."

Mulan took his arm. "All the better for us?"

"Precisely."

Night fell, and Mulan knew they were silhouetted against the window. Stealthy movements outside told her just how much her trainees valued their privacy.

"They're out there, aren't they?" said Mulan resignedly.

"Oh, yes," Shang answered. "Waiting for us to make fools of ourselves, so they can laugh about it across their campfires. While they wait…" he went and fetched a small cloth bag. "I wanted to give you this after our victory. A potter made it while you were confined."

It was a tiny clay statue of Shang.

She had barely taken in the unusual gift when he handed her a small hammer.

"Its soul is trapped within the clay," he explained.

"Ohhh," Mulan said knowingly. She took the hammer. "I have to free it?"

"Yes. It's deliberately fragile. I'd start with the—"

SMASH!

"—head," Shang finished.

Mulan hoped she hadn't wrecked whatever was inside, but soon she swept the shards away, and found a blue silk scarf embroidered with dark red dragons.

"It gets cold in my house, sometimes," he explained, "and if you were to…stay there…"

She kissed his cheek in thanks.

"For dinner?" she said impishly.

It was not Shang's way to be cavalier. He simply found her gaze and said, "Not...only...for that."

Badly-muffled whispers arose outside. Mulan glared at the window. Something would have to be done.

She glanced around the hut's interior, trying to find something useful. For some reason, the remnants of the figurine caught her eye—she couldn't tell why they had, until she saw the writing on the shards.

Before it was broken, _Mulan's Shang_ had been carved on the bottoms of its feet.

Shang saw where she was looking, and cleared his throat nervously, but she stilled his mouth with her palm before he spoke.

"Trust me, General?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Let's not have the men hear this, hmmm? Ready weapons," Mulan whispered. "One…two…three…"

"Hah!"

At once, they drew their swords and pointed them at the window.

"Chaaarge!" hollered Mulan.

"Ahhh!"

"Help!"

"Nooo!"

The less said about the ensuing chaos the better. The two heard their recruits bumping into each other in the dark and swearing as they did. Even Shang couldn't hide his amusement.

While he listened to see that no one remained, Mulan reached over to a pot of dye that lay by the medicines. She stretched out her left forearm and wrote on it using her finger as a brush.

_Shang's Mulan._

"Shang?" she said. "I have a gift for you, too."

* * *

Had any of the men stood their ground, they would have heard a low female voice mumble a few words about an upcoming sunny day, and how Mulan's mouth sometimes got her into trouble.

These innocent phrases had to be explained, which they were, so softly that they had to be said twice. When her listener understood, a huge crash echoed as the healer's ointment table was completely upended.

A few daring witnesses swore they saw, from afar, the shorter silhouette and taller cling to each other.

Yet it would take a close observer indeed to pick out a little red shape in the dark, right below the sill, seemingly talking to itself. At least, there were only crickets in the tall grass to answer it.

"She chose a great atmosphere," Mushu applauded. "Simple, close quarters, an' both of them makin' each other whole again. Plus, havin' swords on hand sure can't hurt. Yep, she's still got a few things bangin' around in the noggin."

Chirp!

"Just like always? Nah," said Mushu. "Look at ole Shang, look at her men, an' all the stories she inspired. She's not just solving things, now; she's helping others think great thoughts, too. Where she can't be, she'll know that other people _are_. Now _that's _a captain." Mushu gazed dreamily at the window. "You go right ahead and pass it on, girl. There'll never be more than one of you." He rubbed his chest proudly. "Not to mention the Mulan-Mushu team savin' China once again! Oh, yeah!"

Chirp?

"The ancestors! Who asked them? Heck, I'll deal with them if they don't approve of the match. Though, if they do, you can bet ole Granny Fa will be the first to know."

Chirp! Chirp!

"You'll speak to her, my foot! Half the time even _I _can't understand you! …What's that? You what? And my mother is HOW scaly? I oughta fry your exoskeleton!"

Behind them in the hut, there came the clatter of weapons, wholly forgotten by their wielders.

* * *

Reverberating through the dream world, that sound woke Grandma in Yu-Wen.

Voices left her with a murmur and blue light. She sat upright as the scene washed over her. Two swords cast down on a bench, one face meeting another in gold lamplight.

The vision was vague, but in seconds, it made sense to Grandma.

The entire village was roused long before morning by a resounding "WOOOHOO!" from the Fa compound.

They might think her mad, but what did Granny Fa care? She sped to the temple, lantern in hand, and kowtowed to the Fa stones six times.

_It's up to me to plan the _next _great festival…but maybe these old coots can help a little._

"Oh, great ancestors!" she called to them. "What should we name the next Fa child?"

That set them all arguing around her…each wanting to be the one to name the next in line.

Granny paid them no mind, patiently keeping her head bowed, until a grumbling voice louder than the rest shouted, _MUSHU, you incompetent lizard, this is __**all your doing!**_

Granny's eyes opened.

"It _is_?" she mused. "Mushu, huh. I like it."

For some reason, she felt horror emanating from the ancestors, as if they had made a grievous error.

Oh well, what did they know? _They_ were dead.

"Thank you, wise ancestors!" she said, exiting the temple. Now, she had the _perfect _name for Mulan's descendant!

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**The End**

**Author's Note:** You have been _wonderful _readers. I've gotten so much help and encouragement from all of you. I hope this doesn't disappoint, and I will be back in this fandom, whether or not I continue this plotline. Let me know what you think!

Thanks again to Akari Kou for betaing.

* * *


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